Harry Potter and the Legacy of Gryffindor
by Phoenix II
Summary: AU post-OOTP. Harry becomes leader of an anti-Dark group. But who are the Scarlet Knights, and will they lead to the downfall of the Dark Lord? Lord Harry, supportive Dumbledore, Weasleys.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the Legacy of Gryffindor

General Disclaimer: I make no claim upon ownership of the characters portrayed in this work of fanfiction. Copyright ownership of the characters is incumbent upon J.K. Rowling in the case of all Harry Potter characters, and in the case of historical figures, no claim of copyright exists. In the creation of this work of fanfiction, I seek to make no profits.

**Summary: AU po****st-OOTP. Harry becomes leader of an anti-Dark group. But who are the Scarlet Knights, and**** will they lead to the downfall of the Dark Lord?**

* * *

It was the end of the first day of August. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, sat in his bedroom, as he did most nights, studying.

His birthday had come and gone, leaving him with a heap of presents. Cakes from Mrs. Weasley, cakes from Hagrid, a small snitch from Fred and George (the note didn't say where they'd gotten it, and Harry decided he didn't want to know), a book about Quidditch from Ron and Hermione, and an obscure ruby ring from Dumbledore, along with a note from the Headmaster stating that he would explain soon.

He'd been studying, instead of schoolwork, the ring. It was a normal looking ring, if he simply set it on the table. It had a gold band, and a fairly large and thick ruby set into it with some sort of symbol etched in gold on the stone. But when Harry picked it up, the ruby began to glow red, like a flame had ignited within it somehow. He couldn't explain the cause of this, and none of his textbooks had any explanation either. He would apparently have to wait for the Headmaster.

His musings were interrupted by Uncle Vernon yelling up the stairs for him, and he pocketed the ring and walked downstairs to see his headmaster waiting in the hallway, with Uncle Vernon standing mute, shuddering with rage at the sight of the elderly man wearing lavender robes. For a brief moment, Harry wondered if Dumbledore had cast a silencing charm on his uncle, but since he hadn't been bombarded with owls from the Ministry threatening his expulsion again, that thought left his head just as quickly as it had entered.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, though he knew full well who the man was.

"Ah, good evening Harry. Do come down, you and I have some things to discuss. I was just speaking with your dear Uncle and he has kindly agreed to allow us to do so in the parlor." The look on Uncle Vernon's face suggested he had done no such thing, but Harry just grinned and followed the Headmaster into the room, sitting in Uncle Vernon's recliner while Dumbledore chose the armchair.

"Do you have the ring with you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry nodded, pulling it out of his pocket. As before, when he held it up, the ruby was glowing red.

"So it does glow for you..." Dumbledore said in a voice Harry normally associated with his musings. "As I suspected it would."

"I don't understand," Harry said. "Why does the stone glow when people touch it?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Not people, Harry. Just you, your father, and all your grandfathers, dating back until the founding of Magical Britain."

Harry was still confused. "So it's like a Potter family heirloom?" The idea of a ring that was tied to blood seemed strange, but if it had originated so far back…he vaguely recalled Binns talking about Blood Magic somewhere back in his second year.

"Of a sort," Dumbledore replied. "And yet, it is much more than that. That ring, if it glows on the finger of the wearer, signifies that he is the Head of the House of Potter."

Harry was dumbfounded. "Head of the House of Potter?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "You may know, from the tapestry in Sirius' old home, of the 'Ancient and Most Noble Houses' of Wizarding families. Yours is, or was, one such House. And you are now its Head, Lord Potter."

"LORD!?" Vernon Dursley thundered from the kitchen. "The brat's a Lord!?"

"For services to the Magical community, a Viscountcy was conferred upon Edmund Potter in 1395 by the Wizard's Council, and confirmed by King Richard the Second," Dumbledore said. "As a symbol of his status, he was given that ring, charmed by the Council so that only those with Potter blood could make the stone glow, preventing its use by any usurpers seeking power using the Potter name. The engraving upon the stone is that of your family crest, Harry."

"What does this mean, sir?" Harry asked, in a rather meek voice. He would have preferred a more strong tone, one he would see as befitting of a Lord, but he was rather overwhelmed at the news that he was some sort of nobility.

"In the short term, it means you have a greater role in what happens in the Wizarding world than you do simply as the Boy-Who-Lived; influential though the name of Harry Potter may be in getting things done, the name and title of Lord Potter is doubly so. You have a seat on the Wizengamot's legislative arm, and as such can propose changes to the status quo, up to and including possibly replacing the Minister. I believe the Muggles call such a maneuver a Vote of No Confidence."

A slight grin came across Harry's face at this news. The opportunity to call for Fudge to be sacked?

"You are, of course, wondering why I am telling you about this now, when you are not yet of age," Dumbledore said, leading Harry to wonder if the headmaster had misread his expression. "The answer is in an event taking place in Gringotts Bank tomorrow morning. The reading of Sirius' will."

"What does that have to do with me being a Lord?"

"Everything, Harry. You need to know that you are a Lord, because in all likelihood you will become the next Baron Black tomorrow."

"But I'm not a Black, Professor," Harry reminded him. "Sirius was the last one."

"Technically true," Dumbledore replied. "Though there does remain a possible male heir with some Black blood, young Mister Malfoy, and I for one would rather him not acquire the Black heritage."

"But how is that possible?" Harry asked. "Inheritance goes to the oldest male heir remaining, doesn't it?"

"Heavens no!" Dumbledore said. "Wizarding nobility doesn't follow the Muggles' ridiculous Salic law. The Head of House chooses who inherits the title, and writes the instruction into his will, which has the effect of altering the letters patent if necessary. Blood relatives are preferred, of course, but not required. I'm sure if we gave Miss Granger time to pour over Wizarding genealogy texts, she could find a blood connection between you and the Blacks, but as I said, it is not necessary."

"So you believe I'm going to inherit the Black family title when Sirius' will is read?"

"It makes perfect sense to me, given that your family and Sirius were quite close. I do not know how recently his will was updated, but he will leave his titles to the Potter estate in some form, which means it will be yours."

"Next year," Harry said. "Even if it's left to me directly, I won't be able to use it until I turn 17, will I?"

"That's where you're wrong, Harry. It is expected that the heirs of the Ancient and Noble Families begin training to assume their responsibilities in the Wizarding world after graduation from school, thus they – in a sense – come of age a year prior to their fellows, due to their responsibilities and the extra training they require."

"You mean to tell me I'm of age now?" Harry asked, gobsmacked. "I can do magic and everything now?"

"As of yesterday, yes indeed," Dumbledore replied, smiling. "Though your case is a rather special one, since you come into you responsibilities immediately instead of many years down the road."

"I have no idea how to be a Lord!" Harry exclaimed.

"I shall help you as best I can," Dumbledore replied. "And I'm sure the current Heads of some of the other Ancient and Noble Houses would be more than happy to give you pointers as well."

"Am I going to have to buy a cape?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore laughed.

"Only if you so desire, Harry. Though you may wish to invest in some business-style robes."

"Wait then, sir, if the reading's not until tomorrow…why are you here tonight?" Harry asked.

"Well, I deduced that you may require more time to absorb the information about your new status, as well as that you may wish to escape from this home as soon as it is feasible for you. I'm sure Tom has a room available for you at the Cauldron."

"I'll get packed then!" Harry said enthusiastically, leaping from his chair and darting for the stairs, but was blocked by an extremely irate Vernon Dursley.

"You're not going anywhere until we discuss my compensation for dealing with your freaky self for the last fifteen years!" the overweight man shouted at Harry.

"You're not getting a damn Knut from me!" Harry shouted back, pulling his wand and with three swiftly muttered incantations, silenced, stunned, and levitated his uncle out of his way.

Making his way upstairs, he packed all the belongings he wanted to keep, which for the most part accounted for his robes, surprisingly few of his "Muggle" clothes – though most of them were either not his size, hideous, or both – his books and other "school supplies" and his Quidditch supplies. He shut and locked the trunk, waved his wand and it jumped up to hover beside him. Making his way back downstairs, he looked once more at his "family", who had congregated around the still-unconscious Vernon.

"I'm leaving," he stated flatly. "I won't be coming back. Please, forget to write." The looks on Petunia and Dudley's faces told him he didn't have to worry about them remembering to keep in touch with him. Looking to Dumbledore, he indicated that he was ready to leave 4 Privet Drive for good. Dumbledore smiled at him and opened the door, letting Harry walk out into the front yard before following and closing the door.

"How are we getting to London, Professor?" Harry asked. "I may be of age, but I've no idea how to Apparate…"

"No matter," Dumbledore answered. "I have prepared a Portkey to take us there, since I gather you would rather not avail yourself of the services of the Knight Bus." Harry shuddered with the thought of riding once again on that death trap.

"No, a Portkey's just fine, Professor," Harry said. Dumbledore pulled from his robe a yellow scarf and offered one end of it to Harry. Taking hold of his trunk with his right hand and the scarf with his left, Harry felt the jerk behind his navel and he, his trunk and Dumbledore disappeared from Privet Drive.

Their sudden reappearance in the Leaky Cauldron did not faze old Tom behind the bar in the slightest; indeed, he treated it as though this sort of thing happened all the time, and did not even look up for a moment from the tumbler he was cleaning.

"Professor, Harry, how can I help the two of you this evening?" he asked amicably.

"I need a room for at least the night, Tom," Harry told him. "I've got business in Diagon Alley tomorrow, and I'm not quite sure where I'll be going afterwards."

"Room 10," Tom said, plucking the key from its hook and tossing it to Harry. "I trust you know the routine by now, breakfast time and such?"

Harry grinned. "Quite well."

"Excellent. I'll see you in the morning then, Harry," the barman said. As Harry began his walk towards the staircase, he heard Dumbledore refuse an offer of Firewhisky from Tom, the Headmaster settling instead for peppermint schnapps.

While Harry settled down to bed, in Wiltshire an ancient scroll in a hidden chamber flashed for a moment, generating a separate piece of parchment and a token. An owl was summoned, and with the token secured to the parchment, secured in turn to the owl's leg, the bird flew off.

Its destination?

_Lord Harry Potter_

_ Room 10_

_ The Leaky Cauldron_

_ London_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks to all of those who read the opening chapter, and special thanks to my reviewers. I hope you enjoy this chapter, feel free to leave a review and tell me what you thought of it. Next chapter should come out 10 January, barring some sort of unforeseen catastrophe. Again, Enjoy!_

* * *

The next morning, Harry found himself walking through Diagon Alley towards Gringotts after a hearty breakfast in The Leaky Cauldron. Dumbledore had transfigured the clothes he had been wearing into business-style robes before they left the pub, and headed into the Alley.

Upon arrival at Gringotts, Dumbledore had led Harry through the rows of Goblin tellers, up a set of stairs to the second level of Gringotts and into a conference room. Already there was a heavyset goblin whose suit was accented by gold stripes and epaulets, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Hermione, Fred and George, Remus, and Mrs. and Draco Malfoy. Harry glared at his classmate, and received a glare back before taking a seat across the table from him.

The goblin looked around the table, paying attention in particular to the ring on Harry's left ring finger, before speaking.

"Now that Lord Potter has decided to grace us with his presence, we may begin," he stated, earning Harry a gobsmacked look from Ron, Fred and George, a surprised look from Hermione, and an even more severe glare from Malfoy at the announcement of Harry's nobility.

"Today we are gathered for the Reading of the Will of Sirius Orion Black, Baron Black, Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Those of you here have been summoned because Lord Black indicated in his will that he wishes to bequeath some of his possessions unto you," the goblin said, taking a scroll of parchment and unfurling it. It looked to be a good foot and a half long.

"I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare and promulgate this as my Last Will and Testament," he read.

"To begin, I would like to state that I hope I died doing something heroic, and was not suffocated in my bed by Remus. With that out of the way, it's time to get down to business. To the aforementioned Remus, I leave 25,000 Galleons and some assorted change, as well as his choice of one of the Black properties, to be determined by the mutual agreement of himself and the next Lord Black."

Remus allowed himself a sad smile as a tear trickled down his face. He'd allowed himself to chuckle at Sirius' poor attempt at a final joke, and Harry knew his former professor would put to good use Sirius' gifts.

"To Fred and George Weasley, the heirs to the Marauders' spirit, I leave 10,000 Galleons in money to be spent in the research and development of products to infuriate Filch and spread the pranking spirit to future generations of Hogwarts students. Ask Remus where he kept the notes we made, you might get some use out of them as well."

Fred and George stood and saluted the parchment briefly before sitting down and glancing at Remus. Undoubtedly, the poor man would be inundated after the meeting with requests for pranking help.

"To Molly and Arthur Weasley, I leave the sum of 20,000 Galleons and my thanks for being there to take care of my godson when I could not. Buy some new things with it, maybe take a second honeymoon, you two deserve it. Best wishes."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley clasped each other's hands, silent tears streaming down Molly's face while she told Sirius' will that it had been no trouble to take care of Harry, really, he shouldn't have.

"To Ron Weasley, I leave 5,000 Galleons and my extensive cologne collection. You're gonna need some help if you're gonna get a girl, Ron, and since I can't be there to show you how, I might as well give you something that will help."

Ron turned red all the way up to his ears at that statement, while the rest of the room laughed for a moment, Malfoy louder than the rest.

"To Hermione Granger, I leave any and all books you may find in any of my homes, trunks, and vaults, except for the house Remus picks, those belong to him. In the hopes that you find something that can help Harry kill that snake-faced twat, get reading, girl!"

Hermione's face had lit up before becoming determined at the last sentence.

"To Professor Albus Dumbledore, I leave 50,000 Galleons so that another meeting place for the Order of the Phoenix may be located. I believe my Heir will have a use of a different sort for Number 12."

Dumbledore looked shocked for a moment, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Harry shrugged, and Dumbledore shifted his expression into a curious one.

"To Narcissa Black-Malfoy, I leave 1 Knut. You've turned into a bit of a bitch since you married Lucius, Cissy. Time to wake up and smell the roses. Slap Bella for me the next time you see her, OK?"

The look on Mrs. Malfoy's face said plain and clearly that she would do no such thing to Bellatrix. Draco looked appropriately scandalized at the way his mother had been treated by Sirius.

"To Draco Malfoy, I leave a fake wand and instructions to the Goblins to let Harry have a free shot at kicking your arse before you leave, you stuck-up little prat. It pains me to even think that I'm related to you."

Draco was furious, while Harry sniggered. A free shot at kicking Malfoy's arse? While he was sure he would be able to do it even without an advantage, he would be sure to enjoy giving Malfoy what-for from Sirius.

"And finally, to Viscount Harry Potter (assuming Albus has told you). I leave to you the position of Baron Black, and install you as the Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, along with the rest of my money, properties and possessions. Sorry I gave away all the books, but I'm sure Hermione will let you borrow a few if you'd like. Oh, and I'm sorry, but Kreacher is included in that list of possessions. Between you and me, Harry, it might be better off to let him join his ancestors on the wall sooner rather than later. Still, he does make a bloody good steak-and-kidney pie for his age, so you might want to consider that. Don't forget to pick a house for Remus, and have fun pummeling Malfoy! I'll miss you, Harry, and I'll see you on the other side with your Mum and Dad someday."

With that, the room exploded in uproar as the goblin rolled the scroll back up.

"I am not going to stand here and be beaten up by Potter in front of my mother and all Potter's friends!" Malfoy protested to the goblin.

"Quite correct, Mr. Malfoy," the goblin stated as two goblin guards walked into the room. "You shall stand in the doorway." The guards grabbed hold of Malfoy and frog-marched him to the doorway, where goblin magic was used to freeze him in place while Harry stood from his place at the table.

"Hey Malfoy," he said with a grin. "Consider this payback for first year," he continued as he punched the blond in the stomach. "Second year," and he brought up his knee to connect with Malfoy's jaw as the other boy doubled over from the first blow. "Third year," as he swung a hard right into Malfoy's face, satisfied to see blood beginning to leak from Malfoy's nose and lips. "Fourth year," as a left-handed haymaker was directed into Malfoy's left eye. "Last year," brought a sudden snap kick into Malfoy's solar plexus, "and just for being alive in general," as Harry turned his nemesis around and kicked him hard on the rear as the guards released their magical hold, sending Malfoy flying across the hall and into the stone wall.

Mrs. Malfoy hurried to the side of her son while the rest of the room – save Dumbledore – erupted into cheers.

"Hope that doesn't lose me House points," Harry said to the Headmaster, brushing blood off his knuckles.

"No, I'm afraid I can't punish you for that," Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye. "It was, after all, one of your godfather's dying wishes."

"That concludes the will reading of Sirius Black," the gold-attired goblin stated. "All transfers of funds will occur automatically, and if Mr. Lupin and Lord Potter would remain behind, we shall adjourn to my office to facilitate the property selection."

"I shall wait for you downstairs, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded, and followed Remus and the goblin into the latter's office.

"The Black Family has 13 homes scattered throughout the United Kingdom," the goblin informed them, pulling out a folder of documents. "Feel free to peruse these and select which home you would prefer, Mr. Lupin." Harry looked at the desk of the goblin, and found out that his name was Silvertooth.

Harry and Remus huddled together, looking over the homes. Unfortunately, they were mostly large manor houses, or multi-bedroom homes, and Remus didn't see the need for a single werewolf to have so much floor space. Harry, on the other hand, argued that it would be good for him to have a manor house, since they usually came with dungeons, in the event that he could not acquire Wolfsbane, he could use those during his transformations. Remus was surprisingly receptive to this line of reasoning, and in the end he and Harry settled on a manor house in Sussex. Silvertooth pointed out where on the deed to the home Harry needed to sign, and where Remus did as well.

"The transfer is complete," Silvertooth proclaimed. "Congratulations on your new home, Mr. Lupin."

"Thank you," Remus said, bowing to the goblin before taking his leave.

"Lord Potter? Is there any way I can be of continued service to you today?" Silvertooth asked Harry, who remained in his seat.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "I was doing some maths in my head during the reading, and I calculated that, less my share, Sirius gave out some 110,000 Galleons. I was just wondering, how much of the Black fortune does that represent, and what are my overall financial holdings as Viscount Potter and Baron Black?"

"Ah, of course," Silvertooth said, grabbing a ledger book from his desk.

"This is of the Black finances only, milord," Silvertooth began, opening the thick old book. "I can bring you the Potter ledger in a moment."

"That will be fine," Harry said, watching the book as six new entries were made onto the last page.

"It seems that once accounting for the previous Lord Black's bequests, you are left with a total of 350,800,938 Galleons, as well as assorted Sickles and Knuts, of course. The ledger self-updates, so that we can always provide an accurate accounting of your finances," Silvertooth said. "I'll go fetch the Potter ledger now, give me one moment, milord." Harry nodded, looking at the book as the goblin left the room. Even as he did so, another thousand Galleons were added to the account with the notation "Interest." Harry instantly wanted a copy of these books.

"Here we are, milord, the Potter ledger," Silvertooth announced, returning to his desk with an even thicker book, and turning it to its last page. "Including your trust vault, which upon your ascension to your title has reverted to the main Potter vault, the Potter finances comprise 769,032,693 Galleons, along with assorted Sickles and Knuts."

"So, in total, I've got over a billion Galleons between the two families?" Harry asked. He wasn't that good with un-even numbers. Multiples of five he could handle, things with nines and threes were harder.

"One point one nine billion," Silvertooth stated, after consulting an adding machine. "And change."

Harry let out a long, drawn-out whistle. "Bloody hell."

"Indeed. You also have various heirlooms in both vaults: books, wands, jewelry, and the like," Silvertooth added. "In addition to the money and heirlooms, you have control over many properties: the now 12 Black homes, and an additional 13 on the Potter side of things."

"Excellent," Harry said. "Would there be any chance of you being able to get me some information on my Potter properties, as well as duplicates of these fantastic ledger books?" he asked. "And a way to pay for things without having to run back here for a few thousand Galleons if they're kinda expensive?"

Silvertooth smiled. "Certainly, milord. We can provide you with a chequebook that is linked to your account."

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that it doesn't work like a Muggle chequebook," Harry said, and the goblin's smile grew wider.

"Of course not. It's one check, and you write the amount to pay and to whom in the same places you normally would, but the difference is the writing disappears once the transaction is completed."

"Sounds handy. Oh, but I would need two though, so it knows which vault to draw from."

"I can link the two accounts, milord," Silvertooth said. "Similar to Muggle banks linking multiple checking and savings accounts to one chequebook, you would only require one chequebook, and you could draw from both of your accounts as needed."

"That sounds better. Let's do that," Harry said. "You can send everything to Room 10 at the Leaky Cauldron. I'll be staying there for the rest of the month," Harry said. "Oh, and I need someone to take me down to the Potter vault so I can get a bit of money out for some light spending."

"Of course, milord," Silvertooth said. "Just go down and corral the first teller you come across. That ring of yours should do the rest of the talking." As Remus had done, Harry bowed to the goblin before leaving his office.

He found Dumbledore waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ah, Harry. I was wondering what was keeping you," the Headmaster said.

"Sorry, sir, I was just going over my holdings with Silvertooth," Harry said. "And making arrangements to get some things sent to me."

"Of course, of course," Dumbledore replied. "Are you ready to return to the Inn?"

"Actually, sir, I'd like to get a little bit of pocket money out before I leave," Harry said. "Won't be but a few more moments." Dumbledore nodded, and Harry walked over to an available teller and placed his hand upon the counter.

"Lord Harry Potter wishes to visit his vault," Harry said, as the goblin in question stared at the glowing signet ring.

"Of course, sir," the teller replied. "Follow me." The goblin climbed down from his perch and led Harry out to the carts.

A few very quick minutes later, Harry's pockets were full of gold and they were back in the lobby.

"Now I'm ready to return to the inn, Professor," Harry said.

"Excellent, Harry. Now, do be on your guard…young Mister Malfoy may have alerted the Dark Lord to your presence in Diagon Alley today," Dumbledore warned. Harry's hand went to his wand as they approached the doors.

Fortunately, there was no need to worry. There were no masked men in black cloaks waiting for them in front of Gringotts, and Harry and Dumbledore made their way up the street without incident.

Once Harry was once again safely inside The Leaky Cauldron, Dumbledore Apparated away to Hogwarts with a pop, and Harry was informed by Tom that he had received a letter while he'd been in the Alley. The old barman handed it over to Harry when asked, and Harry thanked him before walking up the stairs to Room 10.

The envelope was thick parchment, and Harry could feel a coin-shaped object contained inside as well. Locking the door to the room, Harry tore open the envelope and withdrew a letter that had a token attached to the bottom.

_Lord Potter_, it began,

_May I first offer you congratulations on your ascension to your Viscountcy. I write you this letter because these are dark times for Wizarding England. For the sixtieth time, a Dark Lord has set his evil sights on all which we love and hold dear. This malevolent one is more dangerous than his predecessors, for he has not been content to remain vanquished._

_For the past year, we have been searching for someone to lead us in our fight against this Dark Lord. With your ascension into the Potter viscountcy, you have become the single perfect candidate for this time-honoured position._

_Since 1066, our organization has been at the forefront of the fights against those Dark Wizards who would destroy England and English wizardry. Your forefathers, going back to our original founding, have all been members and leaders in the fight against the Dark._

_What we offer to you, Lord Potter, is the opportunity to speak to us, learn from us, and decide if you shall continue the Potter legacy of leading the vanguard of the Light against those who would see us ruled by evil._

_The token attached to the bottom of this letter is a Portkey that will bring you to us if you speak the activating phrase: "Chevalier écarlate". We look forward to meeting you, Viscount._

The letter was unsigned, merely stamped with a wax seal that reminded Harry of the Gryffindor house emblem: A scarlet red shield with a golden lion upon it. Re-reading the letter, Harry's curiosity was sparked, and he touched his thumb to the token, spoke the activation phrase, and was whirled away from Room 10 along with the letter.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry landed on a stone floor with a thump. Taking a few moments to catch his breath before standing up, he was pleasantly surprised at what he saw: a large oval-shaped table in the center of the room, with a throne at its head and seating for up to fifty people and numerous fifty-nine Wizarding portraits hung on the wall, with one hanging above the throne, bracketed by lit torches.

Harry also noted the complete absence of any people in the room, which seemed unusual to him since the letter had contained multiple uses of the plural form, indicating multiple people were there.

"Hello?" he ventured, hoping someone heard him. All that seemed to happen was the awakening of all the portraits in the room.

"Harry?" one of them asked, the nearest one it seemed. Harry looked and was surprised to see his father looking back at him from the portrait.

"Dad?" Harry asked, astonished that he was talking to his father. Well, a portrait of him, anyway.

"Yes, it's me," James Potter's portrait replied. "What are you doing here? You can't be much older than 16, how is it possible that there's another Dark Lord already? It's only been fifteen years, there's no way the former Death Eaters would simply swear allegiance to a new Lord."

"Well," Harry began. "I just turned sixteen two days ago, and there's not a new Dark Lord. Voldemort managed to resurrect himself last summer, and he and the Death Eaters killed Sirius just two months ago in the Ministry," Harry informed his father.

"Oh bloody hell," James said. "How? How'd they get Sirius?"

"We were in the Department of Mysteries," Harry said. "Bellatrix LeStrange hit him with a stunner, but the impact of it sent him through the Veil." His father looked horrified.

"Her own cousin…" he murmured, before noticing something behind Harry. "Harry, as much as I'd love to catch up with you, son, Godric is getting rather impatient, I'm afraid."

"Godric?" Harry asked, looking behind him. "Surely you don't mean…"

"Oh yes, he does mean Godric Gryffindor," said the man in the portrait above the throne. "This is indeed me, and you, Lord Harry Potter, are standing in the Convocation Chamber of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury."

"The what of the who?" Harry asked. He'd certainly never heard of this group, and wondered briefly how they even knew who he was.

"The Convocation Chamber of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury," Gryffindor repeated. "An order of knights originally founded by yours truly in 1066 to combat the French Dark Lord Amenoir who had invaded England alongside William and the Normans and sought to conquer the English Wizarding community, and re-born any time there exists a Dark Lord on English soil to resist and destroy him."

"Or her, as the case may be," the twenty-second portrait said.

"Yes, that one time…" Gryffindor acknowledged. "You stand in this magically constructed chamber beneath the henge of Avebury in Wiltshire, because as the last remaining light-side heir of William Peverell, you have been chosen as the one who will lead the Knights against the reincarnated Voldemort."

"William Peverell?" Harry asked. "How am I an heir to him?" Various portraits began to shout at him, exclaiming his lineage, and Godric had to yell several times for quiet.

"Sorry, Harry," his father's portrait said once the silence had been restored. "This is the sort of thing Lily and I would have taught you during your primary school days. William Peverell was Godric's lieutenant in the original Knights. When Godric died without male issue, the magic of the Knights' Charter devolved upon the Peverell family, marking his light-sided heirs as those who would lead future iterations of the Knights. Unfortunately for the Magic, only one of William's three sons – Ignotus – stayed with the Light. When one of his daughters married into the Potter family sometime in the late 1400s, that mark was transferred unto our family, and for the last 500 years we have led the Knights against all sorts of Dark Lords. My father fought with Dumbledore against Grindelwald in the forties, and I led them against Voldemort the first time 'round."

"Oh," Harry said. He wanted to kick himself for being so meek in his responses, but he did have quite a lot of information to process.

"So, where are the Knights?" he asked Godric. "I mean, there's seating for about fifty people here, where are they all."

"That's for you to find out," Gryffindor replied.

Harry was confused, and said so.

"Each leader reconstitutes the ranks upon his assumption of leadership," Gryffindor explained.

"When I was chosen, Harry, most of the light-sided wizards I knew were in the Order of the Phoenix," James said. "Dumbledore seemed to have a good handle on running the war, so my Knights – myself, Sirius, Frank Longbottom, Edgar Bones, and the Prewett brothers – concentrated our anti-Voldemort work on helping them. Unfortunately, Eddie, Gideon and Fabian died before I, and now Sirius…I never found out what happened to Frankie."

"After you and Mum died, and I apparently killed Voldemort, the LeStranges and Barty Crouch Junior paid a visit to the Longbottoms. They tortured Frank and Alice until they went insane. They're both in Saint Mungo's, they don't even recognize Neville when he visits them," Harry told his father.

"Well then, Lord Potter, it seems you have some recruiting to do!" Godric exclaimed. "You can't be expected to go up against Voldemort all by yourself, after all."

Harry went red, and muttered something that sounded like the word "prophecy."

"Oh come off it," James scolded him. "That prophecy is obviously bollocks. Neither can live while the other survives my foot. You killed him once, that should have been the bloody end of it."

"But it wasn't," commented the twenty-seventh portrait. "The Dark Lord did not die, James. He had Horcruxes, remember? Your boy survived. If you applied just a bit of logical thinking, you can read that clause as 'The Dark Lord cannot live while Harry Potter survives.'"

"But that still doesn't make sense, Hadrian," the thirty-third portrait replied. "If the Dark Lord could not live while the boy is alive, then how did he return? I agree with James, the prophecy no longer applies. Voldemort circumvented it when he resurrected himself, why should young Harry be expected to abide by it?"

"Perhaps Hadrian had it backwards," said the thirteenth portrait. "Perhaps it means that 'Harry Potter cannot live while the Dark Lord survives.'"

"Well that's obviously bollocks," argued the fortieth portrait in an irate and irritated tone. "Because the boy is standing right in front of us, and I think we can all agree that he's neither a ghost nor any other sort of apparition."

"Enough!" yelled Gryffindor. "All this is doing is distracting us from our purpose here and reminding me why I regret to this day allowing Rowena to talk me into allowing Divination to be taught at Hogwarts!"

Harry grinned at that. He hated the subject too.

"Now, Lord Potter. Should you accept the position as Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury, your first duty will be to seek out Light wizards to fill your ranks. You may select as many Knights as you wish. While your father only had himself and five others, your great-great-great Grandfather had twenty-seven, and I myself had an additional fifty Knights," Godric said.

Harry immediately began thinking about how many Light wizards he knew, wondering how much convincing would be needed to bring them into the Knights. As he went over the list, a question struck him.

"Wait, just wizards?" he asked.

"Yes. As it was 1066 when the Knights were founded, the Charter prevents ladies from joining as Knights. I understand, however, that as time has passed, witches too have become forces to be reckoned with in combat. It was your father's idea, actually, to create the Auxiliary Knights: a group of witches that served as Healers, potions mistresses, spell researchers and crafters, amongst other things," Godric informed him. James smiled at the recognition.

"Alright," Harry said. "Now, what about rank structure? I'd be the Knight Commander, but what would the rest of them be? I know a little bit about the Muggle Orders of chivalry, and with the exception of the Order of the Garter, you have ranks like Knight Grand Cross, Knight Commander, Knight Lieutenant, so on and so forth."

"Ah, this is the fun part!" Godric exclaimed. "You can have up to two Knight Lieutenants, who help you manage the Knights, up to ten Knight Companions, and the rest as Knight Members. All, of course, would be entitled to the honorific "Sir" before their name, unless you recruit other Light sided nobles."

"Got it," Harry said. "2 Lieutenants, up to 10 Companions, and then Members."

"And of those Knights Companion, you must select an Armourer and a Chaplain," Godric informed him.

"OK," Harry said. "Erm, how do I accept the leadership?" he asked.

"Come forward," Godric informed him. "There is a circle in front of my portrait. Kneel there, and I shall tell you the Oath you must swear."

Harry did so, circumnavigating the chamber by walking around the huge table and finding the circle in front of Gryffindor's portrait. Once there, he knelt before the portrait and bowed his head.

"You, Harry James Potter, being chosen to be Leader of the honourable company of the Most Noble Scarlet Knights of Avebury, shall promise and swear by the holy evangelists, by you here touched, that wittingly and willingly you shall not break any statute of the Charter, or any article in them contained, the same being agreeable and not repugnant to the will of God, and the laws of the realm, as far forth as to you belongeth and appertaineth, so help you God and his Holy Word," Gryffindor intoned. "Do you so promise and swear?"

"I, Harry James Potter, do so promise and swear, by the holy evangelists that wittingly and willingly I shall not break any statue of the Charter, or any article in them contained, the same being agreeable and not repugnant to the will of God, and the laws of the realm, as far forth as I belongeth and appertaineth, so help me God and his Holy Word," Harry replied. A flash of magic, and Harry felt something attach itself to his waist.

"Arise, Lord Potter, Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury, and draw your blade!" Gryffindor called. Harry, realizing that he now had a sword strapped to him, stood up and drew it gracefully from its scabbard.

He recognized it immediately. "I've got the Sword of Gryffindor?" he asked Godric, swishing it around to re-acquaint himself with the feel of it in his hands.

"But of course!" the portrait said with a smile. "What better way to legitimize your claim than to give you my Sword?"

Harry grinned. "Are we all going to fight with swords?" he asked.

"It is a time-tested method of battle," the twenty-sixth portrait answered him. "Spellwork can be quite dodgy in close quarters, whereas a blade will do what you want, wherever you want."

"Cool," Harry said. "I can just imagine the look on Ron's face when I tell him. He'll probably join straight away just so he can get one."

"One last important thing I must tell you, Lord Potter," Godric told him. "It is of paramount importance that you complete your recruitment by the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts. At that time, you and your Knights are to come to Avebury to train, and allow your Knights to swear their Oaths."

"I understand," Harry said, sheathing the sword. "Is there a way for me to speak with you or some of the other Knights at Hogwarts for advice or anything of the sort?"

"There is a portrait of me in the Headmaster's Office, of course," Godric said. "However, Albus may not always be able to let you in to have a chat with me. Your first source for information at Hogwarts should be the Ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"Nearly Headless Nick was a Scarlet Knight?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Yes he was," replied the sixteenth portrait. "And a more honourable gentleman you will never find than Sir Nicholas. Such a shame about that Muggle woman's teeth…"

"Will that be acceptable?" Godric asked.

"Yes. I know Sir Nicholas well, he should be able to help me with most things."

"Excellent, son. Now, it's time for you to return home," James' portrait said. "Just take the Portkey on the letter and say 'retourner'."

"I don't suppose there's any chance of you having a portrait in Hogwarts that could help me?" Harry asked his father.

"Not in Hogwarts, I'm afraid," James replied. "I do have one there somewhere, since I was Head Boy, but I didn't become a Knight until after I left school. There is a portrait of me and your Mum at the Manor that was made after I became a Knight, if you want to visit us there though," he added.

"Which one?" Harry retorted.

"Prat," James answered. "The one in Shropshire."

"Well then, perhaps I may move out of the Leaky Cauldron sooner rather than later," Harry replied. "Be a shame not to be able to talk to your witty self again until Christmas," he added with a cheeky smile.

"You keep that tone up mister, and I'm going to have a talk with your parents," James scolded, earning him a Look from Harry.

"Oh wait," James said with a sudden grin. "I am your parent!"

"Have fun talking to yourself, Dad!" Harry exclaimed, quickly activating the Portkey and disappearing from the Chamber before James could retort.

Reappearing in his room at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, hastily writing a note to Ron and Hermione, telling them he needed to see them as soon as possible, and let them know where he was. Hedwig was more than happy to deliver the note, and not long after she was gone into the night, Harry lay down on his bed and went to sleep, exhausted.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks again to everybody who has been reading and following this story. This chapter is unfortunately on the shorter side, but the next one will hopefully more than make up for it. I've decided to release new chapters on the 10th, 20th, and 30th of every month, so some chapters will come out later than others, but it gives me the time I need to focus on school and work now that school has started once more while continuing to provide y'all with quality story._

_Enjoy, and consider leaving a review if you'd like to let me know what you think about the story so far!_

* * *

Harry was awakened the next morning by the sound of Hedwig tapping on the windowpane. Groggily, he sat up and opened the window for his owl, and she dropped a letter on his lap, the envelope for which bore his name in Ron Weasley's unmistakable handwriting. Sitting up against the bed, now very much awake, Harry opened the envelope and pulled out Ron's note.

_Harry,_

_Sure thing, Mione and I'd be more than happy to see you. We'll meet you at the Cauldron for lunch, yeah?_

_See you then, mate,_

_Ron_

Grinning at his best friend's reliability, Harry slid out of bed and headed for the shower to wash the sleepiness away and freshen up. He briefly mused while showering on how exactly he was going to break the news to them that he was now the leader of a group of Knights that for the moment numbered only him and a few portraits, and would Ron be interested in joining and Hermione heading up the Auxiliary? He was fairly certain that he would need the Sword of Gryffindor to convince them, and might even need to make a trip to the Chamber.

He continued to ponder how he would explain to Ron and Hermione, the latter in particular, over breakfast. Ron, as a Pureblood, might know a little something about a group like the Knights, but Hermione? He doubted it, unless she'd seen it in a book.

And then the answer hit him: books. He had roughly two thousand Galleons in his robe pockets, he could nip down to Flourish and Blotts and buy some books on Medieval English Wizarding History, and a biography or two on Gryffindor, there were bound to be several, and should at least contain a cursory mention of the Knights, or so he figured.

Finishing his breakfast, he headed into Diagon Alley and made a beeline for the bookstore. It took him a few minutes to locate the History section, and even longer to find something in the timeframe he wanted. Pulling a few off the shelves, he opened them at the back and was pleased to notice that Wizarding books had indices. He found several references to "Gryffindor's Knights", "Scarlet Knights", "Knights of Avebury" in a book called _Magical Invasions of Medieval England_, and an entire chapter dedicated to the Knights in a biography on Gryffindor. Along with these books, Harry also decided to buy a book or two on swordfighting, since he and the rest of his Knights would undoubtedly be doing a fair amount of it.

Paying what he felt was a rather outlandish sum of seventy-five Galleons for the four books, Harry made his way back up to the pub. Granted, it was only 10:30 in the morning, but he needed to go over the history books, and dress up a little. Looking like a Knight would go a long way towards impressing Ron, and he figured he might even impress Hermione a little as well.

He spent the next hour briefly reading over and marking the portions in each book where his Knights were discussed, because Hermione would appreciate him having the information readily available for her. In the half-hour before Ron and Hermione would arrive, Harry concentrated on looking the part of a noble Knight.

This was complicated by the fact that the best-looking clothes he had were his school uniform. He decided to go with it, ditching the tie, and prepared for his appearance below by wearing his dress trousers, shirt and shoes, wearing his Gryffindor robes over them, but hanging open at the belt to show his sword. As he played with his hair in the mirror, he reflected that going forward, he would need to find some sort of holster for his wand. It was just too dangerous to carry it in his pocket.

As the clock struck noon, Harry left his room and made his way downstairs, taking deliberate steps to at least convey some measure of respectability. As he reached the top of the staircase, he could see Ron and Hermione sitting at the lunch table, and when they noticed him, Harry grinned as their jaws dropped. He was certain, of course, that there were at least two Order members hidden in the pub to guard them, but as the saying goes, he mused, "out of sight, out of mind."

"Afternoon you two," Harry said, descending the final steps and making his way to sit next to them, setting the two books on the table.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron exclaimed upon seeing him. "What the devil's gotten into you? You look…fantastic!"

"It's not so much what's gotten into me as what I've gotten myself into," Harry replied, with a cheeky grin on his face.

Hermione had a concerned look on her face at this statement. "What have you gotten yourself into, Harry? And what does it have to do with us?"

"Well, let me answer your questions with a question, Hermione. What do either of you know about English Wizarding history circa…1066?" Harry asked. Both were silent for a moment, but Hermione quickly recovered.

"That's the time of the Founders, Harry. Of course, in the Muggle world, it's also the year of the Norman conquest, but why do you care about that, all of a sudden?" she answered.

"Ever heard of Gryffindor founding an order of Knights to combat a French Dark Lord?" Harry asked.

"I don't recall Professor Binns ever mentioning the Dark Lords of those times, Harry," she replied.

"That's alright. That's why I brought these books," Harry said cheerfully, handing each of his friends a book. "Yesterday, after returning here from Gringotts, I found a letter inviting me to 'lead the vanguard of the Light' against the sixtieth Dark Lord to threaten Wizarding England. Included was a Portkey. I activated it, and was taken to a chamber containing fifty-nine portraits, a good forty-five of which were ancestors of mine, and one of which was Godric Gryffindor himself. Between him and my Dad, I learned that I was to be the leader of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury, the order Gryffindor founded all those years ago."

Ron gaped at this, Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I swore to lead the Knights in the present fight against our Dear Dark Lord, and was invested as Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights," he continued. "To symbolize my position, I was given the Sword of Gryffindor, which is now mine by right."

To emphasize this point, he drew the Sword from its scabbard and lay it on the table. Ron's jaw dropped, and Hermione looked impressed.

"That's brilliant, Harry," she said. "So, when can we expect the Knights to begin helping us fight You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters?"

At this Harry's look turned sheepish. "As soon as I recruit and train them."

"What do you mean, mate?" Ron asked.

"Well, the last go 'round, when my Dad was the Knight Commander, he only had five other Knights: Sirius, Edgar Bones, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and Frank Longbottom," Harry said. "And none of them are really in any condition to fight a war."

Ron agreed. "So then, it's just you?"

"For now, yeah. According to Godric, each Knight Commander re-forms the Knights with as many Light wizards as he can recruit and train, up to fifty, because that's the limit they have on chairs at the table in Avebury. I can have up to two Knight Lieutenants, ten Knight Companions, and thirty-seven Knight Members, and I have up until Christmas to get them."

"Ad you want the two of us to be your lieutenants?" Ron asked, looking as though Christmas had come early.

"Er, well…" Harry said. "Just you, actually, Ron."

"What?" the redhead asked, looking scandalized. "But, but what about Hermione?"

"I'd love to have her as one of my lieutenants," Harry said quickly, trying to explain. "But the Knights' Charter forbids ladies from serving as Knights. It _was_ 1066, after all. What I want Hermione to do is serve as the head of the Knights Auxiliary, helping us by serving as Healers, and spellcrafters and researchers."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Well, I'll imagine you'll definitely find uses for all three, knowing you Harry. I'd be honored to help you. But what are you going to do about your second lieutenant?"

"I'll figure someone out," Harry said. "But I know I'm going to need more than six Knights to defeat Voldemort…even with the help of the Order."

"Well, I'll definitely help you, Harry, consider me signed up," Ron said. "How does it work, anyway?" he asked.

"Well, once I've got all the help I'm going to get, I'm to bring you all to Avebury over Christmas break for training," Harry said. "In swordfighting and spellwork, I expect – yes, Ron, you'll all get swords – before you all take the Oath as I did and become sworn Knights."

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

"What I really wanted to talk with you two about today was helping me recruit. I need ideas," Harry admitted.

Both Ron and Hermione were silent for a few moments while they pondered Harry's predicament.

"Well, what about the DA?" Hermione asked. "There's a bunch of wizards in there, all trained to be battle-ready."

"Yeah, there's a good idea," Harry said. "I think I want a few older wizards too," he added. "A few Order members, if I can persuade Dumbledore to not mind the poachings."

"That would be a good idea," Ron agreed. "D'you want us to ask, or something?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Harry said. "I don't plan on showing up at Headquarters this summer. I've still got twenty-five houses to tour, and some shopping to do, and a Minister to sack."

"You're planning on sacking Fudge?" Ron asked, his astonished look once again showing on his face. "Just how d'you think you're gonna manage that, mate?"

"I've got the Potter and Black family seats in the Wizengamot, plus he's proven himself to be a lying prat in the last two months," Harry said. "There's a Wizengamot meeting next week, and I plan on introducing a motion of no confidence. So I've got some politicking to do as well."

"You certainly have ambition, mate," Ron said. "Anyone in particular you want us to ask?"

"Bill," Harry said automatically. "Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Charlie, your Dad…" he added. "I'll ask Fred and George myself, I need to pay them a visit anyway."

"Alright. What do you want Charlie for?" Ron asked, curious.

"Ah, just a notion of maybe getting a few dragons to serve like flamethrowing dive-bombers," Harry said with a grin. Hermione looked scandalized this time, while Ron looked confused.

"Like what?"

"Muggle aeroplanes," Hermione explained. "The military uses them to kill a lot of people at once."

"Oh," Ron said. "Yeah, that'd work."

"Harry, have you been reading _Dragonriders of Pern_?" Hermione asked. "The very _concept_ of using dragons in such a fashion…it's nearly unimaginable!"

"Oh, it's imaginable," Harry replied. "It's just a question of do-ability."

Ron looked lost again. Harry and Hermione each told him to never mind.

"Well, we'll see," Hermione said, finally. "If it's possible, it's certainly not been done in recent memory."

Harry shrugged. "A lot of things I end up associated with haven't been done in recent memory."

"Yes, I know, no need to rattle off a list," Hermione said, cutting him off.

"Alright then. You two feel free to take those books. You may need them. Oh, and before you go," Harry said, pulling out his wand, "you'll need these, Ron, for practice." He then transfigured two knives into short swords.

"I'll see the two of you on the Express. Remember, Sir Ronald, practice!" Harry admonished his friend, wagging the Sword of Gryffindor at him before sheathing it. "Good day to you both."

That said, he stood from the table and walked back to his room, completely forgetting that he had not eaten. He remembered this about halfway up the stairs, but decided he would take care of that when he visited the Alley later in the day. If nothing else, he could eat Florean Fortescue out of business.

Returning to his room, he stripped out of his robes, leaving his dress shirt and slacks on, along with the sword. He would need to make his way into the Alley once again later today, and pay a visit to a certain pair of red-headed hellions.

First, he would have to practice his own swordfighting. Or at least, read a few chapters of a book about it.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks again to everybody who has been reading and following this story. This chapter kind of got away from me during the writing process, but I'm quite satisfied with the result. It sets up a few important things for the next few chapters.  
_

_Enjoy, and consider leaving a review if you'd like to let me know what you think about the story so far!_

* * *

Harry walked into Diagon Alley that afternoon and made a beeline for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He had something he needed to ask the Twins about, and he knew they were the best in the Wizarding world at what they did.

He found the building completely packed with witches and wizards of all ages, looking over and through various racks and bins of Weasley products. To make matters even more complicated, fully one-third of the people in the store seemed to have red hair.

He tried standing on his tiptoes, and even went so far as to levitate himself to try and catch a glimpse of Fred and/or George, to no avail. In the end, he decided to push through the throng and approach the counter. After all, if any of the people in the crowd were to buy anything, the twins would be there to take their money.

"Well, if it isn't –"

"-Harry Potter!" they chorused as he managed to push his way to the front.

"Hey guys," Harry replied. "Any chance of a word in private sometime today? I need something made for me."

"Harry, Harry, Harry –"

"Chief Investor –"

"–Brother from another mother –"

"–Son of our inspirations –"

"–Saviour of our world –"

"–How could we ever refuse you time?" they chorused.

"Just head back, and up the stairs, and we'll see you in a few minutes, yeah?" Fred said, pointing to a set of double doors behind the counter and then upwards. Harry, never one who could be called slow on the uptake, hopped over the counter and made his way through the doors into what appeared to be the stockroom, finding a set of stairs and climbing them up to what looked like an apartment.

Choosing a comfortable chair next to the window, he stared down at the Alley while he waited for the twins to clear out the crowds a little.

He ended up waiting for over two hours. Of course, that could have had something to do with the massive swell of people that had crowded into the already-packed store after he'd put his face in the window.

Finally, at a quarter of five (according to the clock down the street), he heard twin footsteps on the stairs.

"Business doing well?" he queried casually as they entered the apartment.

"Could you possibly drop by everyday?" Fred asked.

"Had to be at least three hundred more people came in after someone saw your pretty face walk into the store," George added. "There's a rough thousand extra Galleons for the ol' Gringotts vault!"

"Now, what'd you want from us again?" Fred asked.

"Take a seat," Harry said. "I know you two are some of – if not the – best magical inventors in Britain. I recently got into something that means I'm going to need some of your help inventing something to keep me alive."

"Oho, something serious? What is it now, Viscount Harrykins?"

"I'm a Knight," he said simply, drawing his sword.

"A Knight?" George asked. "Like…Garter, or Victorian, or…what?"

"No, Forge, look at the sword!" Fred said, wearing an awed expression. George did so, and soon his expression mirrored Fred's.

"You're a _Scarlet Knight_?" he asked, incredulous.

"You know about them?" Harry asked, astonished himself.

"Mum used to tell us bedtime stories about 'em," Fred told him, staring at the sword.

"Well, right now I'm the only one," Harry said. "I'm supposed to be out recruiting others."

"Sign us the fuck up," George told him. "Bloody hell, the chance to actually be a Scarlet Knight…" Fred could only nod.

"Um…well, that's perfect," Harry said. "Because I need a person, or I suppose I can have two people, to serve as the armourers…"

"You've got your men," Fred told him. "Now what does this have to do with inventing?"

"Um, well, I was thinking about the kind of combat we'd be doing…and since we all get swords, I expect it to be close-range mostly, but if it starts out long-range, we'd be vulnerable to spellfire during the approach."

"So just cast a Shield Charm," Fred said.

"Well, yes, you could do that, and that's what I want. Something that will cast as many Shield Charms as needed to protect your approach, but that you don't have to necessarily cast yourself, so you can cast your _own _spells and do some damage instead of being on the defensive while you close," Harry said. "Like a gauntlet, or two, would be better. Wear 'em on the wrists, and just move your arms to direct where you want to position the shield." He demonstrated by moving his arms into various arrangements.

Fred and George looked intrigued.

"Look, Sirius gave you ten grand for R&D, right?" Harry asked. "I'll double it, plus pay you a thousand galleons per pair."

"How many do you want?" Fred asked.

"Fifty pairs," Harry said, without blinking. The twins did, though. Fifty thousand galleons? Plus an extra ten to develop the product? They were sold, and told Harry so.

"Excellent!" the young Potter lord said. "I'll drop by tomorrow with the ten grand, and pay the fifty thousand on delivery."

"OK," the twins said, still kind of in shock at the amount of money in their future.

"Oh, and about the Knight thing? I'll tell you more around Christmas as far as training and stuff, though you might want to practice your swordfighting before then. Oh, and owl me your measurements so I can get some armour for you!" Harry said, rising from his chair and exiting the Twins' apartment in one fluid motion. He went downstairs and snuck out through the back of the shop as the clock struck 5 PM. It would be dinnertime in the pub, and Harry was starved.

Of course, it could never be that simple for Harry Potter.

As he passed Ollivander's, a woman's voice (at first Harry thought it sounded like McGonagall) called out "Lord Potter?"

When he turned around, he saw Neville and his grandmother coming out of the wandmaker's shop.

"Hi Neville!" Harry said. "Wand-shopping?"

"Yeah," his fellow Gryffindor rising 6th year said. "Mine was broken in the fracas at the Ministry, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Harry said. At this point, Neville was subtly nudged by his grandmother.

"Listen, Gran wanted me to ask you if you had any plans for dinner," he said. Harry shrugged.

"Not really, I was just planning on heading back up to the Cauldron and having some of whatever Tom's got laid out."

"Well, would you like to dine with us?" Neville asked. "You can floo back to the Cauldron once you're finished, but it would be nice to have you over."

"Sure," Harry said. "Food's probably better anyway, right?" he asked with a grin, which Neville returned and caused Mrs. Longbottom to roll her eyes.

"Great!" Neville said. "Follow me?" Harry nodded, and the three made their way out of the Alley into the Leaky Cauldron and towards the Floo.

Each traveler took a pinch of Floo powder from the pot.

Neville turned to Harry. "I know you have…trouble, to put it mildly with the Floo, so remember: enunciate. The Floo address is 'Longbottom Place', alright? I'll go first."

Neville threw his powder in and waited for the fire to turn green before stepping in and shouting "Longbottom Place!" and vanishing in a whirl of fire.

"After you, Lord Potter," Mrs. Longbottom said. Harry nervously followed the same steps as Neville, and found himself deposited on a marble floor in what looked like a very elegant foyer in front of a beaming Neville.

"Brilliant!" he said, chuckling. "The way you came out…landed on your arse," he said between fits of laughter as he helped Harry up.

"Real funny, Nev," Harry groused. "I can't help it that the bloody system hates me."

"That's most improbable," Mrs. Longbottom said, exiting the Floo with considerable grace and dignity. "The Floo is really simple, but your form is atrocious. Not unexpected, given your upbringing, but it is correctable."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

Mrs. Longbottom grinned at him. "Well, it wouldn't do at all to have Viscount Potter being thrown out of fireplaces on his arse everywhere he goes."

Harry looked aghast.

"Oh, don't look so surprised, my Lord," she said. "I'm Head of the Credentials Committee on the Wizengamot. I knew immediately once you became Viscount Potter _and_ Baron Black. Shall we continue this conversation in the dining room?" she suggested, headed that way. Neville guided Harry along, as Harry felt he was quite incapable of moving on his own, and knew that this dinner was going to be much more than just dinner.

"Gryffindor thoughts, Harry," Neville said, leading Harry into what looked like Aunt Petunia's breakfast nook. He looked confused.

"Oh, we don't use the formal dining room for everyday dinner," Mrs. Longbottom said. "After all, it's typically just Neville and I, no sense in us being separated by Merlin knows how many seats."

"Oh," Harry said. That did make sense.

"Now, then, Neville, Lord Potter, please, be seated," she instructed. Neville held her chair out for her before seating himself and Harry.

"Mrs. Longbottom, could you please call me Harry?" Harry asked, noticing that as he had sat down a goblet of water had appeared at his place. He anxiously took a drink.

"I suppose," she replied. "Though it's not truly proper to refer to the head of one of the Ancient houses by his given name, unless you're well acquainted with him."

"Well, I'm friends with Neville," Harry said. "Will that suffice?"

"It will," she said. "Now, Polly!" she said, and a house-elf popped in next to Mrs. Longbottom's place.

"Yes, Mistress?" the elf squeaked.

"We have Lord Potter as a guest for dinner," the Longbottom matriarch stated. "So you will need to set an extra place for him."

"Yes Mistress," the elf replied. "Dinner is being roasted pork chops, mashed potaters and peas, with chocolate éclairs for dessert. It is being ready in ten minutes. What would Mistress, Master Neville, and Lord Potter like for drinks?"

"Red wine," Mrs. Longbottom said, and the house-elf popped off.

"Now, Lo…Harry, as you may have guessed, this is a business dinner," Mrs. Longbottom said. "There is a Wizengamot meeting on Monday, and even the most casual of surveys of the membership would tell you that Minister Fudge and his government are most unpopular. With the imprisonment of Baron Malfoy last month, the Minister has lost the last of his 'defenders' in the body."

"Are you asking if I'd like to sack Fudge?" Harry said, cutting Mrs. (Lady?) Longbottom off. "I would think that would be obvious to anyone who has had the misfortune of living under his governance these last two years."

Mrs. Longbottom gave him a curious look. "While I have no doubt as to your position regarding the Minister, the question I have for you is whether or not you would like the honour of introducing the Motion of No Confidence."

Harry thought about it. Part of him would very much indeed like his first action in the Wizengamot to be the expulsion of Fudge, but he did have some concerns.

"Wouldn't that seem rather brash?" he asked. "After all, I've never been to a Wizengamot meeting, and to go in and then demand the removal of the Minister?"

"Who better?" Neville countered. "After all, you said it yourself, it's obvious that you want him gone, people would be surprised if it _wasn't_ you presenting the motion. You're the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, Viscount Potter, Baron Black. Judging by that sword on your hip, you're the Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights. You alone are probably the most respected, revered Light wizard of the last fifty years."

"How is it that everyone I've run into today knows about the Knights but I'd never heard of them until I took a Portkey to their headquarters?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Well, you _were_ raised by Muggles," Mrs. Longbottom said. "And I'm sure you know, if you've been to Headquarters, Neville's father was one of your own father's Knights."

"I've even got his sword," Neville told Harry. "Gran's made sure I know how to fight with a blade, just in case a new Dark Lord popped up in my lifetime."

"So then, you want to join too, eh Nev?" Harry asked. Neville nodded.

"Great! That fills the second lieutenant's slot…now I just need eight more companions and some more members," Harry said, partly to Neville, and partly to himself.

"Who's the other one?" Neville asked. "Ron?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "He's my best friend, and he's brilliant at things like strategy."

"And who are your first two Companions?" Mrs. Longbottom asked.

"The Weasley twins," Harry said. "They're also going to be my Armourers. I've got them working on a magical shield projector, so we don't have to worry about casting _Protego_ all the time with our wands," he explained.

"That sounds brilliant," Neville said.

"Perhaps if we could re-focus the discussion?" Mrs. Longbottom said, interjecting herself. "I'm sure there will be plenty of time to discuss Knights business later."

"Of course," Harry said, demurring. "We were speaking about sacking Mister Fudge?"

"Yes. And your reluctance to present the motion of no confidence."

"Well," Harry said. "As Neville pointed out, it does make sense, considering who I am, and all that Fudge has done to me. I'll gladly make the motion."

"Excellent," she replied. "I will inform the Chief Warlock that upon moving to new business, you are to be the first member recognized to speak. Now, of course, once the motion passes, we will be without a Minister. This is another task we shall have to deal with before adjourning."

"Erm…how long will that take?" Harry asked.

"The last Ministerial election following the resignation of Minister Bagnold and resulting in Mr. Fudge's election lasted for twenty-seven rounds of voting spread out over three days," Lady Longbottom replied.

Harry paled.

"However, I do not believe this election will be as contested," she continued. "Most of the thirteen candidates who vied to replace Millie are either dead or retired. Additionally, the Ministry official next in line to Fudge – Umbridge – is currently missing. There is also very little respect at the moment for the office of Minister, and the candidates who actually agree to be considered will know that they will be targeted by the Dark Lord."

"So then, who are we probably looking at?" Harry asked.

"There will be at least two members on the Wizengamot who will put themselves forward for consideration: Lord Daniels and Lord Hamilton. Both are average wizards of moderate wealth, just enough to qualify for Baronies. Daniels was once head of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, and Hamilton ran an import-export business selling cauldrons. As far as Ministry officials go, I could see Amos Diggory toss his hat into the ring. Amelia Bones will be nominated, but I doubt she would accept, she likes law enforcement too much to be bogged down in the administrative tasks of being Minister."

"Just those three, then?" Harry asked.

"Of course not," Mrs. Longbottom said. "I merely needed to catch my breath a moment. Now…with Bones declining, Tiberius McLaggen will undoubtedly nominate Scrimgeour." At a confused look from Harry, she elaborated, "Head of the Auror Office. Some idiot or other will nominate Dumbledore, but he will of course decline, and finally, someone will nominate you."

"Me? But I'm still a student, for crying out loud!" Harry exclaimed. "I don't know the first thing about the Ministry, or government, or management!"

Neville seemed amused by Harry's reaction.

"Of course," he told Harry. "But it's the image they're mostly concerned with. 'Hey, let's nominate the Boy-Who-Lived for Minister, and send a big "Fuck off" to Voldemort!'"

"Language, Neville!" Mrs. Longbottom admonished.

"Sorry Gran," he apologized. "But Harry, that's the general idea behind anybody nominating you to be Minister. They know you would be quite possibly the worst choice for the job beyond putting an actual troll into office, but they're just trying to subtly say to Voldemort that they think he's a bit of a tosser."

"Gee, thanks for the support, Nev," Harry said. Neville simply grinned and shrugged.

"Neville will be in the meeting voting one of the House of Longbottom's secondary titles," Mrs. Longbottom told Harry. "You should also expect to see several of your other schoolmates in the chamber doing something similar for their families. Nearly every possible vote is in the chamber when there is a sense that a Minister is going to be sacked."

"Great!" Harry said, as Polly returned bearing three large dinner plates and a decanter of red wine. The moment the plates touched the table, they were laden with the food the elf had spoken of previously, and the wine automatically filled the goblets.

"Yous wills enjoy the meal!" the elf squeaked before popping away again, allowing the Longbottoms plus Harry to tuck in. Thankfully, the dinner conversation was sparse, allowing Harry to contemplate who he would support to replace Fudge.

Two of the candidates had experience in law enforcement, three if you counted Diggory. He wasn't really sold on the thought of a minor noble assuming the office of Minister. Diggory would probably have a large sympathy vote for the death of his son at Voldemort's hand, and indeed Harry would consider giving Amos his vote for that reason. Hamilton would not likely receive many votes either, and that left it between Mr. Diggory and Rufus Scrimgeour, whom Harry had never even heard of, for Harry's personal choice to become the next Minister for Magic of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Well, when you put it that way, Harry didn't really have much of a choice to make.

Minister Diggory did have a certain ring to it, anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

"Master Harry Potter will be waking up _right now_!"

The shrill voice had Harry snapping his eyes open and sitting up frantically in bed and flinging the covers off himself.

"I'm up!" he shouted, to whoever had told him to do so. Consequently, he looked around, and didn't see whoever had told him to wake up.

"Huh?" he asked the thin air. As he did so, the covers at the bottom of the bed moved, revealing a house-elf.

"Mistress Lily is demanding Master Harry come to the Manor and visit her!" the elf squeaked to him.

Harry was bewildered.

"Master James told Mistress Lily yesterday about meeting Master Harry in the Chamber and Mistress demanded Tilly goes to Master Harry and brings him home for a visit!" the elf elaborated when it appeared Harry was not going to comply.

"Um," Harry said, quite meekly. "Can I have breakfast first?"

"Mistress Lily was insistent," the elf – Tilly, apparently – answered. "Breakfast can be served Master Harry at the Manor."

"A shower, at least?"

"Master Harry can shower, but Tilly will wait to take him to the Manor!" the elf replied. Harry nodded lamely, making a beeline for the shower.

He came back and found the elf still there, sitting on the bed, legs crossed and waiting for him.

"Is Master Harry ready to go home?"

The words hit Harry like a load of bricks. Well, LEGO bricks, considering that he would only be talking to his parents' portrait, but still. It was (one of his) home(s), and they were there, which was truly something he'd wanted since he was three or four and Vernon had first told him that his "good-for-nothing freak parents died in a car crash and some batty old man left you on our doorstep."

He shrugged on a T-shirt and jeans and turned to Tilly. "I'm ready," he said. Walking over to him and grabbing his hand, the elf snapped her fingers.

The interior of Room 10 at the Cauldron disappeared and was replaced by an elegantly arranged sitting room. Sun streamed in through a large bay window, hitting on red velvet upholstered chairs and sofas. The three walls were rich mahogany wood, and a brick wall in the front of the room contained a fireplace and a large portrait above the mantle.

Sitting in that portrait, beaming at him, were James and Lily Potter.

"G'morning mum, dad," Harry said.

Lily Potter was the first to speak, her eyes glistening with tears that were threatening to fall.

"Harry?" she asked.

"Yep," he answered, and fall the tears did. Harry felt extremely awkward.

"How have you been?" she asked, once she recovered.

"Lately, good," Harry said. He didn't want his mum crying all morning.

"Who are you staying with? Are you well-fed? Those clothes are horrific. Why are you wearing such hideous clothes?"

"Well, up until three days ago, I was mostly staying with Vernon and Petunia," he said. "With parts of my summers spent at the Weasley's and the last two with Sirius."

Lily and James were both outraged.

"Why in Dante's nine Hells were you put with _those two_!?" she shrieked. "You were supposed to go to Sirius!"

"Well, erm…he kind of got thrown in Azkaban because the Ministry thought he killed Peter and 13 Muggles after Voldemort killed you."

James smacked himself on the forehead and muttered about stupid brash mutts.

"But why Vernon and Petunia!?" Lily asked again. "Merlin and Morgana, they're the most magiphobic people in England, if not the world!"

"Dumbledore says it's something about blood protection," Harry volunteered.

Lily snorted. "He would. Never mind the fact that you can't have wards on a house without a wardstone, and there's no way that either my dear sister or brother-in-law would consent to having one of those on their property."

"Well then why would I be there?" Harry asked.

"Who knows, with Dumbledore? After all, if you'd grown up in our world, with Amelia or Augusta, you would have been on the front page of the _Prophet_ every time you stepped outside, and they'd spin you having chocolate ice cream into some sort of sign that you were going to grow up to be a Dark Wizard," James said. "Like the Muggles do with their celebrities, only crazier."

"The _Prophet_'s done that with me anyway," Harry said bitterly. "Bloody wankers spent the entirety of last year libeling me six ways from Sunday and calling me a lying lunatic."

"So sue them," James said. "The name of the Family's solicitor is in the papers somewhere in Dad's old desk in the study. I lost track of the amount of times he kept me from settling things like this were the 12th Century."

"Beater's bats at High Noon?" Harry asked.

"More like 'Quickest Avada Kedavra wins'," James said grimly. "Which, in all fairness, would have been me, because they wouldn't have seen it coming."

Lily punched her husband's arm.

"Don't give him any ideas," she hissed, and Harry snickered.

"So, Harry," Lily said, returning her attention to him. "How was life in Surrey?"

"Horrible," Harry said, having no reason to lie. "Like you said, they're magiphobes. Made me do all the chores, while their own kid was given free reign to harass me and do nothing but eat and watch telly. I slept in a cupboard for ten years, and I was denied food if I did magic, or did better in school than Dudley – which was the easiest thing in the world, mind you – or sometimes just for breathing."

Lily looked like she wanted to become corporeal again and murder her sister and her family.

"And you haven't killed them…why?" she said through gritted teeth.

"Um…because I don't want to be sent to Azkaban?" he said. "Pretty sure the Ministry would know if I cast three Killing Curses."

"Not if you use a wand that's not subject to the Underage Trace," James said. "Yours is probably still traced for another year, but if you officially change your address to here, the Ministry will forget all about their house and you could murder them with impunity, as long as you cast the Dark Mark."

"And just how do you know how to do that?" both Harry and Lily asked.

"Recon mission," was all James would say.

"Well…um, aside from murdering my ever so dear Aunt and Uncle…" Harry said, trying desperately to change the subject.

"Oh of course. Shagging any pretty girls?" James asked, causing Harry to turn red from embarrassment.

"James!" Lily exclaimed, appropriately scandalized. "You don't _ask_ your _son_ that!"

"Oh, c'mon, Lils," James complained. "The boy's sixteen, he should at least have had a proper snogging by _someone_."

Harry looked pointedly at the floor.

"Oh, come on!" James exclaimed. "Have you at least kissed somebody?"

"Yeah. Wasn't very good though. She was crying."

"Just great," James bemoaned. "Son of one of the sexiest students ever to attend Hogwarts, and his sole experience in that particular department is a shite kiss from a crying girl!"

"Well it's not like they're going to be lining up outside the dorm to have a snog with the first guy on Dark Lord's To-Kill List," Harry retorted.

"Are you at least interested in anyone?" James asked. "You've got to at least be _interested_ in someone."

"Yeah, I am," Harry replied. "But, erm…she's kind of…taken."

"Well, who is it? What does she look like?" his father asked. "Details!" Lily, for her part, rolled her eyes and wondered what it about girls was that made young men act like the very sort of people they were after.

"Ginny Weasley," Harry said, his tone of voice changing to show just how smitten he was. "She's about a head shorter than me, ginger, and –" he got out before Lily interrupted.

"Excuse me? You want to date a ginger girl?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "She's brilliant."

"Harry, look at me," Lily instructed, and he did as he was told.

"What do you see?"

"My mum."

"What colour is my hair?"

"Red," Harry said, still not getting it. James did, and adopted an "oh shit" pose.

"You are NOT going to go dating and shagging someone who looks like me!" Lily shouted. "Never mind that I am, to borrow Sirius' old phrase, a 'MILF' – whatever that means – it's bloody bad form for you to want to have sex with someone that resembles your mother! Imagine if Dudley were to bring home girls that looked like Petunia, or … or Sirius taking an interest in a woman that looked like Walburga!"

Harry blanched, not really wanting either of those images in his head.

"Are we clear then, Harry James Potter, that you will confine all future pursuits of women to brunettes or blondes?" his mother asked, in the same scary tone of voice she'd used earlier when plotting Vernon and Petunia's demise.

"Y-yeah. Perfectly clear," Harry said, nodding like he would when threatened, ironically enough, by a particularly vindictive Ginny.

"Now, are you hungry?" she asked. Harry, distracted for a moment by the abrupt change in subject – though really, all the subject changes had been rather abrupt – paused a moment before nodding.

"Tilly!" Lily called, and the little elf popped into the room once more.

"Mistress Lily called for Tilly?" she asked, looking up at the portrait.

"Yes. Harry wants breakfast."

"Tilly is knowing this," the elf replied. "Would Master Harry like sausage or bacon with his eggs?"

"Erm, sausage, thanks," Harry answered, and the elf popped out of the room, returning a moment later carrying a tray with a plate of hot eggs and sausage, a glass of orange juice, a fork and a knife, which she set on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Yous wills let me know when you is finished," the elf said to Harry. "Just call for me, I wills be taking care of Master's house."

Harry sat down, reflecting on the oddities of house elves.

"Are all house elves in the service of light wizards so pushy and demanding?" he asked his parents. "I swear the Longbottoms' elf ordered me to enjoy dinner last night."

His parents smiled.

"I think it's a peculiarity of our family elves," James said. "The head elf back when I was growing up was named Hobby, and he was a real nutter. Augusta had a few of his children off us, so the loonies spread to that family as well. And, well, you've met Tilly. I think Hobby even has a sprog working for the Malfoys."

"Erm…I think I freed that one, actually," Harry said. "Lucius was being a dick, as usual, tried to set a basilisk on Hogwarts, so long story short, I ended up putting a sock in a book and gave it to him, he tossed it to the elf, who opens the book and picks up the sock, which his master technically did give him, and now he's free and working for the Headmaster. Gives me socks every Christmas too," he explained, chewing on a piece of sausage.

"Yeah, that sounds like the kind of crazy things one of Hobby's descendants would do," James said.

"You had dinner with Augusta?" Lily asked.

"Yeah, last night," Harry said. "She wanted to meet the new Viscount Potter and try and talk me into showing up at the Wizengamot meeting Monday and leading the charge to sack Minister Fudge."

"They made that idiot Minister in the first place?" James asked. "I had a few run-ins with him when he was in MAC…Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," he explained. "He was barely capable of running a sub-department, much less the entire Ministry! How long has the idiot been running things?"

"Six years now," Harry said. "Though if it's any consolation, Lady Augusta said it took twenty-seven ballots before he was elected."

"It's not much consolation. So, did you accept?"

"Yeah. After all, we're more or less top of each other's shit list, Fudgey and me. He hates me because I've 'terrorised the Wizarding world' by telling people Voldy-head is back, and I hate him because he's tried to have me expelled from school and/or imprisoned. Me making the motion seems rather appropriate."

"Do you have your Wizengamot robes yet?" James asked.

"My what?" Harry asked.

"You need a special set of robes for Wizengamot meetings. They're purple with a silver W on 'em. Family heads and Lords like us get to have our family crest on the back," James said. "There's also a hat that goes with 'em. Horrid colours, really."

"Erm…I don't have those," Harry admitted. "Where do I get them?"

"Mine were at the cottage…but Dad's should still be here. Otherwise, you'll have to get 'em custom fitted at the Wizengamot offices in the Ministry."

"I suppose I can put up with 100 year old robes for ONE day," Harry replied cheekily as he finished his breakfast and called back Tilly to take the dishes away.

"Why oh why did my son have to turn out to be such a prat?" James moaned theatrically.

"Oh shut it, Dad," Harry replied, grinning. "So…I need to get the solicitor's information, and then…oh, no way am I rummaging through my grandfather's closet. Tilly!"

"Master Harry called again?"

"Could you get me my grandfather's Wizengamot robes?" Harry asked, and the elf popped away once again.

"I suppose this'll be as good a day as any to start visiting my houses," Harry told his parents. "Though no way am I going to get to all the rest of them, with the business I've got to do in Diagon Alley today."

"Like what?"

"Like pay my Armourers their additional 10,000 Galleons for research and development of my shield charm armbands," Harry said. "Buy an entire new wardrobe for myself. And look for a place where one can buy dragonhide armour."

"Well, you certainly won't find that kind of shop in Diagon Alley," James said. "I got mine in Knockturn."

Harry was rather wary of trips to Knockturn Alley with the situation being what it was, and told his father so.

"Ever heard of a cloak?" James replied. "You can pull it over your head and nobody'll be the wiser as to who you are. Or a glamour charm?"

"What's a glamour charm?" Harry asked.

"A charm created by somebody who was jealous of metamorphs," Lily explained. "You can use it to change your appearance. Just think of the image you want instead of your actual image, say the incantation _alterame_, and there you go."

"Oh," Harry said, as Tilly returned with the robes. They were the ugliest things Harry had ever seen.

"I'm going to look like such a bloody idiot in these things," Harry said. "How do these meetings work, anyway?" he asked James.

"Well, Dumbledore calls the meeting to order, the Ministry Department Heads give reports on what's going on and what legislation they've given to the Minister to present, then whatever legislation that's waiting on further approval from previous meetings is brought out and debated and voted on, and then they move on to new business, which is typically where the Minister stands up and begins introducing all the legislation the Department Heads were yammering about earlier," James explained.

"Except Fudge won't be presenting them this time," Harry said. "Augusta said that she's going to make it so that the first thing we deal with is my motion to sack the incompetent berk."

"Well then, once that's settled and done with, the new Minister will be sworn in immediately and continue the session until all the new legislation is introduced," James told him.

Harry moaned. "So basically, I should plan on being there until dinnertime?" he asked.

"Or longer, depending on how many replacement candidates there are," his father answered.

Harry sighed. "Alright. I think I'm going to move in here, unless I find a better house amongst my other 24. I mean, it's been…what, twenty years since anyone lived here?"

"Sounds about right," James admitted.

"Bloody hell," Harry said. "OK. One last time…Tilly!"

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"Prepare the house for me to stay the night. I'll be home around 5, I'll need dinner ready and I will eat lunch whilst out."

"Yes, Master Harry."

"Pack up all of my grandparents' personal things after I leave…I don't want to feel like I'm in a museum. The furniture and everything else can stay."

"Yes, Master Harry."

"Great," he said. "Now…gotta get that guy's name and I'll be off. Where's the study?"

All three others in the room pointed to the back of the room, where there was a mahogany door. Harry rose and walked into the study, and spent the next five minutes rifling through old papers before locating the contact information for the Potter family's solicitor.

"And where's the floo?" Harry asked, walking back into the sitting room. James, Lily, and Tilly pointed to the fireplace beneath the portrait. Harry appraised it.

"Seems a bit cramped," he commented, but lit a fire with his wand in it nonetheless, took a pinch of powder and threw it into the fireplace. As he watched the fire turn green, the fireplace expanded so that it could easily fit someone of Hagrid's size.

"I should really stop being surprised at this sort of thing," he commented, causing James and Lily to laugh and Harry to walk into the fire before straightening up and yelling his destination.

"The Leaky Cauldron!"

* * *

_A/N: Eurgh. I'm really dissatisfied with this chapter, but then, I'm very rarely satisfied with anything I write. Reviews would go a long way towards preventing my descent into self-loathing madness. :D_

_Next time: Shopping! Tune in Feb. 20 for that chapter!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as Harry stepped out of the Floo connection in the Leaky Cauldron, he was assaulted by a package-carrying owl. Relieving the bird of its burden, Harry winced as it bit his ear before flying off.

"Ruddy bird's been flying around for an hour waiting for you," Tom informed him. "What was so bloody important?"

"Something I asked for from Gringotts," Harry answered, taking a peek at the information on the box, which bore the seal of the bank.

"Ah," the bartender said. "I look forward to reading about your exploits in the Wizengamot, Mister Potter."

"Huh? Oh, the robes," Harry said, after a glance from Tom. "Yeah, should be fun." He added the last with a rogue grin that had Tom chuckling and waving him upstairs. He veritably threw the robes into his trunk, and then opened the package from Gringotts.

On the top was a letter.

_Lord Potter_

_I must begin this letter with an apology. A recent change to Wizarding law has prevented the linking of your accounts. Enclosed in this package is your chequebook, and the best solution to the problem of determining which vault the funds are withdrawn from._

_You expressed interest whilst in my office in possessing a copy of your family ledgers. If you are familiar with Muggle chequebooks, they contain a similar item that is placed in the top of the chequebook and allows the owner to record transactions the account holder makes by cheque._

_Therefore, enclosed with your chequebook are two mini-ledgers that will provide you with a record of your transactions for each account. To switch accounts from which you wish to spend, simply place the other mini-ledger in the top of the chequebook._

_Also enclosed are copies of the full books, should you wish to peruse the previous transactions of the Potters and the Blacks._

_May your profits be many,_

_Silvertooth_

_Assistant Director for Premier Accounts_

_Gringotts Bank_

_London_

It made perfect sense to Harry, and the young Lord promptly inserted the Potter mini-ledger into the chequebook whilst keeping the Black one in his pocket. He had a fair bit of shopping to do, after all, and his Potter assets were by far the most substantial.

'_Now, let's see,_' Harry thought. '_I need a new wardrobe, I need to find a dragonhide armour maker, I need to meet my solicitor and sue the _Prophet_, and I need to give the twins the extra money. Hopefully, I will be back by dinner, but a couple of these errands could delay me._'

Itinerary in mind, and chequebook in pocket, Harry walked downstairs once again and exited the Leaky Cauldron for Diagon Alley. Pulling his cloak up over his head, he hoped he would be able to delay his recognition by his throngs of bipolar fans.

His first stop was the twins' shop, and this time around the place was not packed – one of the benefits of it being not quite nine in the morning. As a result, he was able to approach the counter and get Fred's attention.

"Oi!" he whispered, as Fred regarded the hooded stranger with suspicion. "Oh, really, I'm not a bloody Death Eater," he muttered.

"Then take off the hood," the redhead said. Sighing, Harry did so, hoping nobody was looking.

"I've come to give you your money," he said, pulling out the chequebook. "What's your Gringotts account listed under, your names, or the business?"

"Business," Fred said. "What's that?"

"Chequebook," Harry replied. "I just write who the money's going to and the amount, and when the ink disappears, the transaction's complete," he said. "According to my account manager, anyway. I've got a little ledger up here so it should update like my normal one does. Wanna be the guinea pig? I've not done this yet."

"Sure, why not?" Fred asked.

"OK…Pay to: Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, amount…10,000 Galleons. Date it…and sign it," Harry said to himself, filling out the appropriate blanks. Once he finished with each blank, it glowed white briefly. When he finished the signature, everything he had written flashed once again and vanished, to both Harry and Fred's astonishment. Harry excitedly turned to the appropriate page on the ledger and watched as an entry formed stating that in fact, he had successfully transferred 10,000 Galleons to WWW.

"Excellent!" Harry said, clapping his hands together after returning the chequebook and quill to his pocket. "Well, gentlemen, I have a solicitor to see about suing a group of annoying busybodies. Good day to you," he said, grinning. Fred and George waved good-bye, and yelled "GOOD-BYE HARRY" as loud as they could after he'd opened the door, forcing him to jump to the side to avoid a stampeding horde of humanity rushing into the store. Pulling the hood up once more on his cloak, he pulled the business card he'd found in his grandfather's desk from his pocket.

_The Law Offices of Solomon H. Cooper & Gordon I. Curry_

_16 Diagon Alley_

_London, England, UK_

That address put the office – conveniently enough for Harry – directly across from the building that housed the offices of the _Prophet_. Walking into the building, he approached the secretary.

"Excuse me, madam, might I speak with Mr. Cooper or Mr. Curry?" he asked, his tone very formal.

"Do you have an appointment?" the witch asked, not looking up at him.

"Er, no," Harry replied. "I just need to see the solicitor attached to the Potter family."

"Who are you and why do you need to talk to that person?" she asked, still not looking up at him.

"Lord Harry Potter," he stated, annoyed, pulling his hood down. This, predictably, elicited the secretary to snap her head up. After a moment of examination of his forehead, she appeared to be satisfied as to the veracity of his claim.

"One second," she muttered, standing up and walking into the office proper, presumably searching out Harry's solicitor. She reappeared mere moments later trailed by a middle-aged wizard with greying brown hair.

"Ah, there he is indeed," the wizard said. "Thank you, Norah. Lord Potter? I'm Solomon Cooper, I was your grandfather's solicitor. Would you like to follow me to my office?"

"Yes sir. I have a matter I wish to discuss with you," Harry said, moving towards the man whilst Norah the secretary resumed her post.

"My office it is then," Cooper said, ushering Harry into the main office through the same door Norah had left and returned through. The centre of the room was filled with filing cabinets, and along each of the walls were offices – Harry counted at least a dozen. The office he was led to was against the back wall and looked to be one of the largest. Though Harry figured that was Mr. Cooper's right as one of the partners of the place.

Once they were inside, Harry was offered and declined a cup of tea, and then offered and accepted a seat, sitting across from Mr. Cooper.

"Now, what was it you wished to speak with me about?" he asked, steepling his fingers and resting his chin atop them.

"Your across-the-street neighbours," Harry replied. It took the older man a moment to catch what Harry was referring to.

"Ah. I was wondering what had taken you so long, to be honest. Your skin must be thicker than most, if it has taken you this long to retain the services of a solicitor in this matter."

"Er, well, not exactly," Harry said. "I wasn't aware my family had retained your firm for legal services until this morning."

"Ah," Cooper said, unconcerned about being corrected by a 16-year-old. "Well then, am I correct in assuming you wish to pursue action against the _Prophet_ for libel?"

"Oh, you're quite correct on that count," Harry replied, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "I'm quite frankly sick and tired of them. I know our country has a reputation for being somewhat…liberal in terms of libel law, but I don't have a doubt that I have a very strong case against them."

Cooper was grinning. "I think you'll find that in our world, we're a little more sensitive towards the reputation of our celebrities. The real question you need to be asking is not 'Am I going to win in court?' but 'How much do I want from the _Prophet_?'"

"How much do I want from them?" Harry asked. "I want as much as they can give me, and then some."

"You're OK with bankrupting Britain's largest Wizarding newspaper?" Cooper asked, teeing the question up for his client perfectly.

Harry took the bait and hit it out of the park. "They're already morally bankrupt, if they think that it's O-bloody-K to publish attacks on the character of a 12, 14, and 15 year old," he said, voice cool and eyes bright with anger.

"OK, then, we'll seek two billion Galleons in damages," Cooper replied, making a notation on a piece of parchment. "No way they're worth much more than an eighth of that, and to be honest with you, Lord Potter, Barney Cuffe has been a right pain in my arse for the last decade. I don't mind the opportunity for a little payback myself."

"Excellent," Harry replied. "Erm…now what?"

"Now, I have Norah and a couple of my junior solicitors pour over copies of the _Prophet_ for libelous references to you, and get started on writing up all the accusations in that good ole legalese before we file it with the Wizengamot Judicial Branch, who will then contact the _Prophet_'s solicitor to make him aware of what's going on, and then after a few motion hearings, they'll set a trial date to hash out the facts and decide you were libeled," Cooper explained with a grin. "Then they'll tell Barney to pay up, he'll whine and say he doesn't have nearly that amount of money, then they'll tell him to cough up the money or give you the paper."

"Cool. How long d'you think it'll take, and how much will you be getting?"

"On top of my retainer?"

"Yeah. How much is that, by the way?"

"The retainer is 1,000 Galleons a month, hardly a dent in your vast fortunes. Of whatever we reap from Barney, I'll get twenty-five percent. It'll probably take a year or two if they insist on litigating it."

"OK," Harry agreed, without truly caring about either answer. "What d'you mean, if they decide to litigate it?"

"Well, seeing as how I intend this opening salvo to absolutely excoriate every last insult they threw your way – we're talking at least a paragraph for each time they called you some variant of crazy – they may decide, 'Y'know, this really isn't worth fighting' and try to negotiate a settlement."

"Ah," Harry said. "Make it clear in no uncertain terms that I won't be satisfied with anything less than 2 million Galleons per offence."

Cooper smiled a predator's smile. "I'll send you an owl when I receive their response."

"Send me a copy of the suit you file as well. I'm sure I and a friend of mine will have some fun reading over it."

"I'm sure you will as well, Lord Potter. Very well. Is there any other business you need to speak with me about today?"

"I don't believe so," Harry replied.

"Very well," Cooper said. "Have a pleasant day then, my Lord. I trust you can see yourself out?"

"Yes, no problem. Good day to you as well, Mister Cooper." With that, Harry rose from his seat and walked out of the office, grinning as he heard Cooper yelling for two people to join him in his office.

Walking once more into the Alley, Harry made his way to Madam Malkin's shop, and was instantly swarmed by the owner herself.

"It's about bloody time you showed up, Lord Potter."

"E-Excuse me?" Harry asked, stammering as he was dragged by the clothier towards her measuring stools.

"I haven't seen you in here since you were a first year, and you can only magically alter clothes so far!" she exclaimed. "Now, stop complaining and let me measure you. What are you after?"

"Erm…entire new wardrobe," Harry replied. "Both for school, and for…well, being a dashing new Lord, I suppose," saying the last with his best imitation of Sirius' patented Seduction Grin.

"Hm. And you are prepared to pay for all of this today?" she asked, siccing the magical measuring tape on him.

"Yes ma'am," Harry said. "In whatever amount it's going to cost."

"Of course," she replied. "Forgot, you are a billionaire now. So, what colour would you prefer for your dress robes? And which fabric?"

Harry knew he was in for a mid-morning in the clothing shop. It occurred to him midway through the selecting of various fabrics, colours, and styles that he should also take a side-trip into Muggle London and visit a few clothing stores there, for a more casual wardrobe and a few suits as well. Of course, that would also require a trip to Gringotts to convert a few hundred Galleons into pounds, and if he didn't manage to escape here soon, he might not manage such a side trip.

It was eventually determined that Harry would be buying two new Hogwarts Uniforms, three sets of cotton business robes, and three sets of dress robes, each in different colours. Total cost: 500 Galleons. Harry wrote out the cheque once more and instructed Madam Malkin to send his new clothes to Potter Manor. He walked out of the store just as the clock struck noon and his stomach rumbled, indicating that it was lunchtime. Harry decided to return to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, after which he would visit Knockturn Alley, then Gringotts and Muggle London.

After a fairly satisfying meal of fish and chips, Harry disappeared once more into Diagon Alley, this time making the side trip into Knockturn. He tried to adjust his movements to not stand out, but felt like he was not entirely successful. He was hoping to find the armour-maker quickly before anybody took exception to his presence.

As it would turn out, whilst he was busy peering into shop windows and trying to be inconspicuous, the armour-maker was on the lookout for him, and as Harry walked past Borgin & Burke's, a strong arm grabbed his shoulder and dragged him into the shop opposite.

"What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing!?" Harry shouted once the door was shut, whipping his wand out to point it at his kidnapper, who crossed his arms and laughed.

"Doing you a favour, Potter," the man replied. Harry now noticed that the man was taller than Kingsley and nearly as broad as Hagrid. "Any more time spent out there, you'd have been cursed and/or turned into a slug. What's a goody-two-shoes like you doing down this way anyway?"

Harry sheathed his wand. "Alright then. I'm looking for a shop that sells dragonhide armour."

"What do you think you're doing here?" the man asked, pointing to the walls, which were adorned with various samples of dragonhide of various colours.

"Ah."

"Now, I'm presuming you're looking for outfits for your Knights?"

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"You're Harry Potter, there's a Dark Lord out there, and I sold your father the armour for his Knights."

"Of bloody course," Harry muttered.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing, nothing," Harry said. "Just…everybody seems to know about Dad."

"Well, he _was_ a rather renowned wizard for his age."

"Can we just…do this?"

"Got somewhere else to be, young one?" the armour-maker said with a smirk.

"Actually, yeah. You're the middle of my shopping trip today, and I have only four more hours to visit…five or six more stores."

"You are indeed a busy young man. Well then, to business. Your father didn't want his armour to be too 'flashy'. In fact, he had it made to be wearable beneath his everyday clothes. Simple Hebredian Black shirt and leggings."

"No, I think we will be doing something different," Harry said, barely letting the man finish.

"You don't share James' anti-flash policy?"

"No, I can't say I do," Harry replied. "I've been thinking about propaganda, and one great way I can think of to tell people that there's people who are going to stand up and fight the Dark Lord, and to do that, I need visuals."

"So…you'd rather be more 'traditional'?"

"Oh yes. If you have any Chinese Fireball dragonhide, I think that would go a long way towards producing the effect I'm after. It needs to cover the chest and upper arms, and the leggings need to be full length. Oh, and don't worry about boots. I can take care of those," Harry said.

"Are you sure about the Chinese Fireball?" the armour-maker asked. "It's not one of the more magically strong hides."

"So make it thicker," Harry said. "And I'll just order more as I need it."

"How thick do you want it, anyway?"

"Two or three layers should do it," Harry said.

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?" the man asked. Harry grinned and conjured a picture, of a mannequin in red dragonhide vest and pants, with silver armour on the arms and a helm with a scarlet plume completing the image.

"Nice," he admitted.

"I know, right?" Harry said, unconcerned about the levels of cheek he was displaying.

"Alright. If you have your measurements handy, I'll begin working on a prototype for you. It'll be 1,500 Galleons and I should have it done by Monday."

"Brilliant," Harry said, handing over a sheet of parchment he'd procured from Madam Malkin with every single measurement she'd taken from him. The man took it and glanced over it.

"I didn't need to know the last one, Mr. Potter," he said, causing Harry to snatch it back, read it himself, then turn red from embarrassment and erase it magically from the sheet before handing it back.

"Alright. Monday it is then," Harry said, trying to retain his poise in front of the laughing man. "Payment upon delivery."

"Of course. Until then. Do be careful on your way back to Diagon," the man exhorted him. Harry grinned, and the last the man saw of Harry was him exiting his shop and running full-out back towards Diagon Alley, barreling past (and into) more than a few shocked witches and wizards (and hags).

To tell the truth, he didn't stop running until he reached Gringotts. He was quite certain he'd attracted a lot of strange looks. Pausing only to catch his breath, and pointedly not looking behind him, he walked into Gringotts and spent the next ten minutes converting 600 Galleons into 3,000 pounds.

Before leaving the bank, Harry performed his first ever glamour charm. Conjuring a mirror, he changed his hair colour to blond and lengthened it to cover his scar, and changed his eye colour to blue. Then he transfigured the shape of his glasses, which were probably the third or fourth most noticeable thing about him.

He was able to make his way out of the Alley happily unmolested, and just before exiting the Leaky Cauldron he cancelled the glamour and reversed the transfiguration of his glasses. Walking out onto Charing Cross Road, he hailed a cab and instructed it to take him to Savile Row – London's premier men's clothing area.

He spent the next two hours being measured yet again, this time for a set of tailored suits from the best tailors in England at a cost of two-thirds of the pounds he carried. Told that these too would be available to him on Monday, Harry paid and left for his final stop: the mall, where he would buy some simple jeans and t-shirts.

Finally, he staggered back into the Leaky Cauldron at a quarter to five, exhausted and carrying six bags of clothes shrunken in his pocket. Returning up to his room, Harry shrunk his trunk and placed it in his pocket as well before walking back downstairs and approaching the bar.

"Tom, I'm checking out," he informed the barkeep. "Time for me to move into the family manor."

"Right you are, Mr. Potter," Tom replied. "That's twenty Galleons, you owe me."

"Alright," Harry said, and handed over the necessary amount. "I'll see you Monday."

"Right-o, Mr. Potter!" Tom called as Harry headed for the Floo.

"Potter Manor!" he called, and vanished into the green flames.

* * *

_A/N: I'm aware it seems a bit rushed towards the end, but I didn't see any sense in babbling on any longer about clothes when there's a Minister to sack. Expect that next chapter, which shall be posted 10 March. Now, I'm off to write an essay. Reviews are, as always, appreciated!_

_Phoenix II  
_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: And here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for: The Fall of Fudge. Just a warning: while this chapter seems rather short, the next chapter is flippin' enormous (considering my usual standards). I'm once again a few chapters ahead of myself, and as next week is Spring Break...well, I anticipate that number to grow._

_As always, enjoy, and review if you can!_

_Edit: Fixed Harry's wardrobe. Trousers and slacks...what was I thinking? Thanks, Teufel1987!  
_

* * *

Monday morning saw Harry awaken in the master bedroom of Potter Manor at shortly past seven. He'd spent the weekend exploring the place, finding out that it could easily hold fifty people, given the presence of some twenty-two bedrooms; amongst other things he located a large library, an armoury, five parlours, a large dining room and a small private dining room, like at the Longbottoms, the office, and kitchens that rivaled those of Hogwarts in their size.

He'd discovered that he had a staff of sixteen house-elves, and that number would increase as two of them were pregnant with elflings. He'd told them what his favourite foods were, and they had promised to put them on the menu (though Harry felt that the elf who made dessert was rather put off by him expressing his love for treacle tart).

He loved the master bathroom. It was made out of marble and onyx, and there were no less than sixteen directions from which the water could come at him from the shower. All he had to do was think about it, and the shower adjusted. This morning he chose to have water coming at him from all directions, because this was the morning of what Harry was sure would be the best day of his life: the day he got Cornelius Fudge sacked.

During his exploration, he'd found a book on Wizengamot rules and procedures, and had gone over them with James. He knew exactly what to do, and exactly how to do it. The Ministry and the Wizengamot wouldn't know what had hit them.

Stepping out of the shower, Harry dressed in trousers and a simple white shirt before heading downstairs to breakfast. He waited on putting on the Wizengamot robes just in case his breakfast got away from him.

The headlines of the _Prophet_ were what he expected: rabid blathering about the anticipation surrounding the Wizengamot session, who would actually make the call for Fudge's head, who would replace him – Harry noted with a grin that the predicted candidates were the very same ones Lady Longbottom had told him to expect – and even going as far as to "ask" whether or not Fudge would be arrested and thrown into Azkaban once removed from office. Perhaps that would be something he could speak with Director Bones about.

With everything he'd prepared for, one of his elves informing him at just before ten that he had a guest awaiting him in the front parlour threw him for a loop. Especially once he found that it was Dumbledore.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said cordially. "Forgive my tardiness, I wasn't truly expecting visitors."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "Though truly, I expected you to be still at the Leaky Cauldron and not in possession of your Wizengamot robes. Imagine my surprise when Tom told me where you had vanished to?"

"I'm sure it was most surprising."

"Oh yes. I suppose then, given your residence here, you've managed to locate yourself the correct set of robes?"

"Yes sir, my grandfather's. Though I will confess I have had my elves launder them at least three times, so I don't walk into the chamber reeking of mothballs and old wizard. I shall ask for a set of my own after the session, before I go traipsing about London picking up my new wardrobe," Harry said, taking a seat in an armchair across from Dumbledore.

"Excellent. And you are prepared for today? Lady Augusta has informed me that you are to present the motion."

Harry nodded. "I've even been practicing," he admitted. "Though I keep ending up making a little speech before I get around to actually saying the words of the motion."

"Ah, Harry, nothing wrong with a little verbosity amongst Lords," Dumbledore said.

"It just seems like I'm playing to cameras that aren't there," Harry said. "Like I'm addressing the Commons during Question Time and the BBC has a camera trained on me while I criticize the Government."

"Well, I do believe the WWN is going to be broadcasting the session, if that helps assuage your concerns," Dumbledore said. "Granted, it is not television, but most people have at least some idea of what you look like, no?"

This elicited a chuckle from Harry. "Well, yes, I suppose they do."

"Are you enjoying yourself here?" Dumbledore asked. "I must confess, it has been several years since I have been at Potter Manor."

"Oh yeah, it's brilliant," Harry said enthusiastically. "I've got tons of space, a proper bedroom, and excellent food. Not to mention there's probably tons of things I can learn from the library here."

"Oh, there most definitely are. You should particularly look at the Potter Family's spellbook. It's a very large book full of spells unique to your family. Some of them are quite archaic, but very powerful and interesting."

"The what?" Harry said.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure as to what your family called theirs. I know some of the darker families call theirs 'grimoires', but that is one of many possible names for the thing," the Headmaster explained. "They can only be read by members of the family, either by blood, adoption or marriage."

"Oh," said Harry. "And you think there might be some useful spells in there that could help me defeat The-Tosser-Who-Calls-Himself-A-Dark-Lord?"

"It is possible," Dumbledore said. "Now…if you could, show me to your room and put on your Wizengamot robes? There is one additional issue I would like to speak with you about before we depart for the Ministry."

Harry, having a feeling that was slightly less than a hint but substantially more than a suspicion, nodded. "Right this way, Professor," he said, rising from his chair and heading for the staircase.

Dumbledore followed Harry up the stairs and into his bedroom, and looked around while Harry put on the first layer of the Wizengamot robes, buckle the Sword of Gryffindor around his waist, and then put on the upper layer and the stupid hat.

"Ah, so that's that answered," Dumbledore said.

"Huh?" Harry asked, quite confused.

"I will admit to being quite confused as to where the Sword of Gryffindor had gone, especially considering that I did not recall removing it from my office."

"Oh. Well…apparently it didn't really belong there," Harry said. "Gryffindor kinda gave it to me."

"Like your father."

"Yeah. I hope you don't mind, sir, and I truly hope it wasn't too…shocking to see it gone."

"Oh, I did have a suspicion that you had somehow gotten your hands on it," Dumbledore said. "The mechanics were merely what befuddled me. It did become somewhat clearer when Mr. Weasley arrived at Headquarters bearing a sword and asking me if there was a large room in the house where one could practice swordfighting."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Oh, Ron…"

"So you're going about and forming your company?"

"Yes. I've gotten four, so far, that I know of."

"That you know of?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, Ron is supposed to be trying to help me recruit some more experienced wizards," Harry said. "But I haven't been able to talk to him in a few days so I don't know how he's doing."

"Well, he seems to be making in-roads with his father and eldest brother," Dumbledore told him. "Kingsley and Alastor are considering the proposal. Might I ask why you're seeking after Order members?"

"Because they have some knowledge of combat," Harry answered honestly. "And, no offence intended, sir, but…the Order seems more of an intelligence-gathering apparatus than a combat group. Yes, you have a few Aurors, and you're one of the best duelists in the wizarding world, but beyond saving my hide in June, what combat have you done against Voldemort?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's reaction was a curious lift of an eyebrow, which Harry took as a cue to go on.

"I did a little bit of reading after my trip to Avebury," he explained. "The Knights exist to fight Dark wizards. That's been our purpose for the last 900 years. So if you don't mind, here's my proposal: we work together, the Order gathering intelligence and me and my Knights acting upon it to fulfill our joint mission, the destruction of Voldemort."

"Very well reasoned, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

"Is that a yes?" Harry asked.

"It was a compliment," Dumbledore replied. "I shall consider it. I do believe your idea has merit, your criticism is very close to the mark, and worry not, I take no offence from your words. Unfortunately, the situation with Cornelius is at the forefront of my mind, and must remain there for at least the next few hours."

"I understand," Harry said.

"Now, we must be off to the Ministry, if you wish to speak with the Wizengamot clothier before the session begins, whilst I must deal with yet more paperwork beforehand."

"Of course. The floo is in the sitting room downstairs," Harry said, making sure his wand was still accessible to him.

Both of them flooed to the Ministry, Harry only stumbling slightly upon exit. He was certain that he was about to get the hang of it. He and Dumbledore were met in the Atrium soon after by Augusta Longbottom and Neville, both wearing Wizengamot robes. Greetings were exchanged as they walked to the elevator, heading first to Level Two for Harry to make the order for his own set of robes, and then down to the Wizengamot chamber.

They were amongst the first members there. Dumbledore took the seat at the head of a dais, with Augusta to his right. Neville took a seat next to Harry and they watched the room slowly fill up while they talked in hushed tones about the Knights. They saw Malfoy walk in with a slight limp at five minutes until the hour, stalking up to his family's seat without looking at anybody.

The last to arrive were the Minister and the Ministry Department Heads. The press was all there, pressed up against the back wall, though the WWN had charmed microphones to hang from the ceiling in various places to capture the sound and broadcast it to their listeners. Once everybody was seated, Dumbledore produced a gavel and whacked it against his podium several times to quiet everyone.

"Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, Members of the Ministry of Magic, Members of the Press, and Guests, I now call to order the third meeting of the Wizengamot in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and ninety-six. Clerk will call the roll."

They spent the next twenty minutes listening to Lady Augusta call out the names of various Wizengamot members and awaiting a response of "here."

"Out of 162 members, 159 are present today," she announced. "The Wizengamot has a quorum and will conduct business at this time."

"So noted," Dumbledore replied. "We will hear reports from the Department Heads of the Ministry on the activities in their Departments since our last session."

One by one, the heads of the Ministry's seven Departments rose and gave their reports orally to the Wizengamot. Three of them (Magical Games and Sports, Magical Transportation, and International Magical Cooperation) indicated that they had legislation to present today. Dumbledore thanked them and moved on to the pending legislation, of which there was thankfully very little.

Just before one o'clock PM, Dumbledore announced that the meeting would be moving on to new business. Harry immediately stood.

"Head of the Wizengamot, Lords and Ladies, I wish to make a motion," he announced, noticing as he did so that one of the WWN microphones began moving towards him, and the flashbulbs of photographers were beginning to pop off.

"The Chair recognizes Lord Harry Potter," Dumbledore announced, and attention was once again turned to Harry.

"My Lords, over the past two years, it has become clear to me that our Government is being mismanaged and run by a group of witches and wizards that should not be entrusted to leadership of anything beyond a child's lemonade stand," Harry said. "I therefore propose that the Wizengamot express a lack of confidence in the abilities of Minister Fudge to govern our world."

Much to his surprise, Neville was beaten to his feet by Draco.

"The House of Malfoy seconds Lord Potter's call for a vote of no-confidence in Minister Fudge!" he called from his seat. Fudge paled at this announcement as the rest of the room exploded into a cacophony of noise. Dumbledore spent over a minute on his gavel before the noise died down.

"Per the Rules of Order of the Wizengamot, Minister Fudge, you may make a case defending your Government before the members vote," Dumbledore replied, and the Minister was instantly on his feet.

"I stand by all the decisions I have made while Minister!" Fudge exclaimed. Harry was surprised the man did not seem to be reading from some sort of prepared text, given the rumours surrounding his position. If Harry had been in the Minister's position, he was certain he would have drafted some sort of defence in advance rather than try to make it up as he went along.

"Since my election as Minister, I have spent countless hours trying to maintain the peace and security of our world in the absence of You-Know-Who, and working to keep our children safe and ensure their access to the best education possible. My Ministry has been involved in keeping the Wizarding world safe, and I believe we have succeeded!" Fudge announced, bringing Harry to his feet once again.

"Balderdash!" he exclaimed. "Lord Dumbledore, I demand the floor," he said, very heated.

"You have the floor, Lord Potter."

"Thank you, my Lord," he said, offering a quick bow to Dumbledore before spinning once again on Fudge.

"You say you have worked to keep our world peaceful and secure!?" he exclaimed, pointing his finger at Fudge. "You, who set Dementors on a school full of children, had potential intelligence sources killed before they could be useful, refused to acknowledge the return of the Dark Lord until he stood not ten feet away from you in the face of all the evidence provided to you by myself and Lord Dumbledore, set a wholly incompetent teacher on Hogwarts before proceeding to give her carte blanche to make the lives of the students Hell, and have been in the pocket of known Dark Wizards like recently convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy since the day you entered office!?

"You think that any of us think you capable of doing the right thing in the fight against Voldemort after this last year in particular?" he asked. "Knowing as we do now that you spent the last year lying like a rug that he was not, and soliciting slander and libel of the good names of anybody who dared question your position? You're a fool, Minister. The fact that you came to this meeting unprepared to defend yourself against a motion such as that which you face right this moment shows that even now, you continue to delude yourself into believing that nothing is wrong! And fortunately for the rest of us, you've run out of chances to pull your head out of the sand. I call the question!" he called, sitting down finally, almost out of breath.

"Is there a second to Lord Potter's request to move to a vote on this body's confidence in Minister Fudge?" Dumbledore asked.

Neville rose and seconded the motion.

"All in favour of proceeding to a vote, say aye!" There was an amazingly large chorus of "ayes" ringing throughout the Wizengamot chamber.

"Those opposed, say nay!" Crickets.

"The motion passes. We will now proceed to a vote to determine whether or not Minister Fudge will remain in office. Pursuant to the Rules of Order, we will conduct the vote by roll call. Those in favour of removing Minister Fudge should say 'Aye', those who wish him to remain in office should say 'Nay'," Dumbledore said. The Wizengamot members nodded their understanding, and Dumbledore signaled to Augusta, who once again began calling the names of Wizengamot members.

When she got to "Baron Black," Harry rose and proudly announced "Aye!" A few wizards later, Neville's seat was called; he too rose and declared "Aye!" It took ten minutes for there to even by one "Nay" vote, cast by some ancient warlock Augusta called as Marquess Madison. His vote was immediately followed by Malfoy's "Aye" vote, and only Nott, Parkinson, and Tracker voted "Nay" the rest of the way.

"By a vote of 155 to 4, the motion is passed," Dumbledore proclaimed, and Fudge sunk into his chair in defeat. "Cornelius Oswald Fudge, by Decree of the Wizengamot, you are hereby removed from the position of Minister for Magic. An Auror will escort you to your office so that you may clean it out. You are expected to be out of the building by five this evening." Dumbledore smacked the gavel once more, and an Auror stepped forward to lead Fudge out.

Harry recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt as the Auror who escorted Fudge from the chamber, and saw that the Fudge who left in disgrace was in even more shock than the Fudge who had shown up in the Atrium in June.

"We now have a vacancy in the position of Minister for Magic," Dumbledore announced. "I will now accept nominations for a replacement Minister to serve out the remaining four years of Fudge's term."


	9. Chapter 9

_Previously:_

"_We now have a vacancy in the position of Minister for Magic," Dumbledore announced. "I will now accept nominations for a replacement Minister to serve out the remaining four years of Fudge's term."_

Seven people stood immediately, obviously prepared for this.

"The Chair recognizes Lord Daniels," Dumbledore replied.

"My Lords, I would like to nominate Lord Hamilton for the position," Daniels said, indicating the wizard standing next to him. Dumbledore next recognized Hamilton.

"I accept the nomination of my honourable friend Lord Daniels and would like to nominate him as well," Hamilton said.

"I thank my honourable friend for his nomination and accept," Daniels said before both of them resumed their seats. Dumbledore then recognized a man who nominated Amos Diggory, who accepted as well.

Harry noted that the nominations were shaking out exactly as Augusta Longbottom had predicted, as someone nominated Amelia Bones.

"I thank my Lords in the Wizengamot for their trust in my abilities, but I must decline the nomination," Bones said, rising to address the body. Dumbledore in turn recognized Lord Tiberius McLaggen, who – as predicted – nominated Head of the Auror Office Rufus Scrimgeour, who accepted.

Following this, Lord Madison rose and nominated Dumbledore, who merely smiled while his eyes did their signature twinkle.

"I am afraid I must once again decline your nomination, my honourable Lord Madison," Dumbledore replied. "I believe you all know my reasoning for this by now. Lord Harrison, the floor is yours."

"My Lords and Ladies, I nominate Lord Harry Potter for the position of Minister," Harrison announced, and it took all of Harry's considerable willpower for him not to drop his head to the desk and groan.

"Lord Potter?" Dumbledore asked. Harry rose.

"I thank the honourable Lord for his nomination, but I'm afraid scholastic and familial business prevents me from accepting it at this time," he said, addressing Harrison.

"Are there any other nominations for the position of Minister for Magic?" Dumbledore asked, seeing no other Wizengamot members standing. No one else rose and an awkward silence pervaded the room.

"Very well then, nominations for the position of Minister are hereby closed. Lords Daniels and Hamilton, Mister Diggory and Auror Scrimgeour, if you would please come down front and centre?"

There was another period of silence whilst the four candidates made their way down to the front, facing the rest of the Wizengamot.

"You will each be allowed to make a short statement as to why you feel you would be the best choice for the position of Minister. You may decide the speaking order amongst yourselves."

The four conferred amongst themselves for a moment before Hamilton stood forth and gave a speech that was rather milquetoast, talking in general terms about what he would do as Minister and was heavy on economic policy. He was followed by Daniels, who was the first to speak out about the Ministry's inaction in fighting Voldemort. He announced a desire to increase funding to the MLE and bolster the ranks of the MLEP and the Hit-Wizards. Scrimgeour agreed in sentiment with Daniels, but wanted to concentrate his efforts on the Auror office, naturally. Diggory spoke at length about his family's loss because of Voldemort, and intimated that he would do absolutely anything as Minister to spare other families that kind of heartbreak.

"We will now proceed to an initial vote," Dumbledore said, hitting his gavel once and bringing up parchment ballots in font of all the Wizengamot members. Harry, having pre-decided the matter for himself, marked each of his ballots for Amos Diggory. He saw Neville doing the same, and wondered idly which candidate Malfoy was backing.

After a brief period of voting, all of the ballot papers disappeared and marks appeared over all of the candidates, indicating the number of votes they had received. Harry saw fifty-three votes each for Diggory and Scrimgeour, with Daniels receiving twenty-seven and Hamilton twenty-six.

"Lords Daniels and Hamilton are eliminated from consideration," Dumbledore announced. "The final vote will occur in 15 minutes. Until that time, we are in recess." The members all stood at the sound of the gavel, appreciating the chance to stretch their legs and converse amongst themselves. Some conjured drinks, others did not. Harry decided he could do with some water, and decided to not bother with a goblet, instead opening his mouth, pointing his wand, and muttering the _aguamenti_ incantation.

"So uncouth, Potter," Malfoy's voice sounded from behind him as Harry cancelled the charm.

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"I'm afraid I can't," Malfoy said. "You and I need to talk. In private."

Nodding, Harry stood up and led Malfoy into a (fairly) secluded corner.

"What d'you want?"

"Your protection," Malfoy said quietly. Harry stared at him.

"It's not my idea," the blond said with a scowl. "Well, not entirely. My mother fears for our safety from the Dark Lord now that Father is in prison. As she is a Black by birth, she requested I speak to the Lord Black and ask for protection for herself and me."

"And just how the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?" Harry asked. "Not like I've got Hit Wizards at my beck and call to guard Malfoy Manor."

"You idiot," Malfoy hissed. "We're _leaving_ the Manor. He knows where it is, how to bypass the wards, everything he would need to get in and kill us. What Mother and I want from you is _sanctuary_. You give us that, and the Old Magic involved will work out the rest for you."

"That sounds awfully convenient," Harry said. "And what happens if you decide you'd like to follow in dear old Daddy's footsteps? What's to stop you from betraying my location, and your mother's if Voldemort orders her death?"

"If you think I'd risk taking his Mark now, you're a bigger fool than I've ever thought," Malfoy said. "Not if what the rumours I'm hearing about you are true."

"What now?" Harry asked, with an exasperated moan.

"That you're reforming the Scarlet Knights. Any wizard with an inkling of knowledge about Wizarding history knows that that's a death sentence for any sworn supporters of the Dark Lord they oppose, and forgive me if I don't feel like dying on your sword, Potter."

"That's…that's actually true," Harry admitted. "Alright. Is there any particular way I need to word this?" Draco handed him a slip of parchment. Harry read over it and nodded.

"I, Harry Potter, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do hereby give promise of sanctuary and protection to Narcissa Black-Malfoy and her son, Draco Malfoy. So Mote it Be." A brief flash of light occurred.

"Send a message to your mother, Draco," Harry said. "After we finish here, return to your Manor and collect everything you wish to bring with you, and the both of you meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 5 this evening, alright?"

"Yes, m'Lord," Draco said with a bow as Dumbledore began hammering the gavel to call the Lords back to their seats for the vote.

"Welcome back, Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. We resume our session to elect a new Minister for Magic for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Our final two candidates are Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, and Amos Diggory of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. My Lords, you have all heard from the candidates themselves as to why they feel they would make suitable replacements for Mister Fudge, it is up to you to decide who shall succeed him."

Tapping the gavel once again, ballots once more appeared before all of the Wizengamot members in the chamber. Harry, once again, marked both of his for Mr. Diggory, rather anxious this time for the vote. Scrimgeour just didn't seem right to him, and the man had developed an unnerving habit of constantly glancing up at Harry throughout the session.

Once again, the ballots disappeared.

"By a vote of eighty to seventy-nine, the new Minister for Magic is Amos Diggory," Dumbledore announced, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Minister Diggory, if you would be so kind as to pick up where Minister Fudge left off?"

"Absolutely, Chief Warlock," Diggory said, rising from the bench where the Ministry workers sat and walking over to the podium which still contained Fudge's briefing book that had been brought into the chamber.

"It appears that the Ministry has four pieces of legislation for the Wizengamot to consider this afternoon," Diggory began, appraising the contents of the briefing book. "The first comes from the Department of International Magical Cooperation, concerning new rules to synchronize the visa and passport process of said Department with the appropriate Muggle agencies…"

Another hour and a half later, the session was over. Two of the proposed laws had been referred to committees, one had been killed outright, and the visa/passport synchronization proposal had passed by a vote of 100-59, with most of the nay votes coming from older Lords who didn't like going out of country on holiday.

As most of the Lords, reporters, Ministry officials and guests filtered out, Harry caught sight of Malfoy and nodded at him, a gesture Malfoy returned. His own exit was impeded by Dumbledore and the new Minister.

"Was there something you needed me for, Professor? I need to pay a visit to Diagon Alley and a few shops in London before I return home," Harry said.

"I'm afraid there is, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "With the election of our new Minister, there are two Muggles who require notification of the event. One is the Prime Minister, and Minister Diggory and myself will be able to handle that easily."

"Who do you need me to inform, then?" Harry asked, catching on quickly, much to Dumbledore's delight. He was inwardly glad he wasn't being sent to Number Ten, he wasn't very fond of the Prime Minister. Mostly, though, that was because of Vernon, who lamented to no end the day Maggie Thatcher had been forced out.

"Why, Her Majesty The Queen, of course," Dumbledore replied, and Harry could swear he saw his Headmaster smirk when Harry's jaw dropped.

"Oh, do buck up, young Lord Potter," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling with mirth. "After all, you two have much to discuss."

"We do?" Harry asked, confused. Dumbledore simply pointed to the sword.

"Your Order is loyal to the Queen, Sir Harry," he said. "You must personally swear fealty to her, and I imagine she'll want to hear just why the Scarlet Knights have to reform once more. I'm sure you'll still manage to collect your new clothes afterwards."

"Yes sir," Harry said. "How am I to get there, though."

"The Floo in the Minister's office," Dumbledore replied. "Come with us, I'll explain once we get there."

Harry followed Diggory and Dumbledore into an elevator which took them to Level One and the Minister's office, which Harry was glad to note as they walked in was Fudge-free.

"Oh, are one of you the new Minister?" a man in an out-of-the-way portrait asked as they walked in.

"I am," Amos replied.

"Excellent!" the portrait replied, seeming to bounce up and down in his frame.

"Yes, yes, you may go inform the Prime Minister," Dumbledore said to the portrait. "Inform him that we will be along shortly." The man in the portrait vanished.

"Now, Harry, you must be off to Buckingham Palace. Use the Floo, and say Buckingham Palace. It will deposit you in an office staffed by a wizard…one of a few in the employ of the Queen. He will announce you to the Queen. Remember to bow, Viscount Potter," Dumbledore told Harry, before offering him a pot of Floo powder. Taking a pinch, he threw it into the fireplace and stepped in.

"Buckingham Palace!" he announced, and was whisked away. He exited the Floo still upright, but wobbly in a beige-walled office.

"7.6 from the East German judge for that landing, Lord Potter," the wizard behind the desk commented with a grin.

"Oh stuff it," Harry replied. "Bloody Floo…anyway, I need to see Her Majesty. I presume you're the one to arrange that?"

"That'd be me," the wizard replied. "Somewhat surprised you're the one they sent to make the announcement, but that's not my job, is it? Give me one moment, my Lord." With that, the wizard stood and walked through a doorway. Harry took a seat in a chair and waited for him to return. A glance at the clock told him it was past 4:00 PM, meaning he had less than an hour to speak with the Queen – and Harry knew instinctively he could not cut this meeting short – go to Gringotts, go to his armour maker, and make his pick-ups from Savile Row before 5:00, when he was due to pick up Draco and Narcissa. He truly didn't want to have to spend more time in London tomorrow, but he didn't see any other solutions, until an idea struck him.

"Tilly!" The house-elf appeared with a pop at his side.

"Master called?"

"Tilly, I need you to go to Gringotts, withdraw 1,500 Galleons and visit the dragonhide armourer in Knockturn Alley. There should be a package waiting for me there. Get it and take it home, wait for me there. I will hopefully be back by dinnertime, and I will be bringing two long-term guests home, so have two guest rooms opened up, if you could. Oh, and take away these robes?" Harry asked, removing his Wizengamot robes and handing them to the elf, re-buckling his sword around his waist and transfiguring a suit jacket from a piece of parchment.

"Yes, Master Harry," Tilly replied. "Tilly will do as Master asks." The elf popped away as the door opened and the wizard returned. Now he just needed to figure out a way to get his suits and the Malfoys.

"My Lord, if you will follow me?" the wizard asked, not commenting on Harry's different attire. Harry nodded, rising from his seat and following the wizard towards the Throne Room. When they reached the door, the wizard signaled for Harry to stop, as he threw open the door and stepped inside, announcing loudly.

"Your Majesty, I present before you The Right Honourable Harry James Viscount Potter, representing the Wizengamot of the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland!"

Harry entered the room, walking at a brisk but dignified pace, stopping five feet from the Throne where the Queen sat, and dropping to a knee with his head bowed.

"You may rise, Viscount," the Queen replied. "And We pray that you will explain why you come before Us armed."

"Apologies, Your Majesty," Harry said, rising. "My sword is related to my second purpose in meeting with you this afternoon."

"Second purpose?" she asked. Harry nodded.

"Yes ma'am. Nominally, I am here at the behest of the Wizengamot to inform you of the fact that we have replaced the Minister for Magic. But I was chosen also because I have recently become Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury in order to fight the Dark Lord Voldemort, which is why I am armed before you, Your Majesty."

"Very well, We will hear more of this, Viscount. You shall follow us into the Green Drawing Room, and you shall explain to Us why you are fighting a dead man," the Queen stated, rising from the Throne and walking into an adjoining room. Harry followed and was directed to a seat across a tea table from the Queen. His nervousness at being there apparently showed, because the first question he was asked was why he was fidgeting.

"It is not intended to offend, your Majesty," he said quickly. "I have houseguests I need to pick up in an hour, and I have some clothes awaiting me on Savile Row that I would like to pick up by close of business this evening, and I truthfully was not expecting to be meeting with you this afternoon."

The Queen, to his relief, appeared understanding.

"Which shop on Savile Row do you need to visit?" she asked. Harry told her. She called an attendant to her and had a brief whispered conversation with him, and he left.

"Brian will see to it that your clothes are picked up and will be waiting for you in Jacob's office for when you leave. Where are you meeting your houseguests?"

"The Leaky Cauldron, ma'am. It's the wizard's pub on Charing Cross Road."

"Jacob is familiar with it. He will collect them for you and bring them here to await you. Who should he look for."

"They are Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. They're both blonde and walk around rather stuck-up. Rather easy to spot in a pub."

"Quite," the Queen said, and the wizard who had escorted Harry to the Throne Room (Jacob, apparently) was soon informed of his new mission. He nodded and departed.

"Now, Viscount, why are We meeting with you not even twenty years after a man who you resemble quite strongly and We presume to have been your father met with us and proclaimed that he, too was the Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights, in combat against the Dark Lord Voldemort, who We have understood to have been killed in 1981 by yourself?"

"Because, your Majesty, that night in 1981 where my father and mother were killed by the Dark Lord, I did vanquish him, but did not kill him. Due to what I can only assume is some foul, Dark magic, Voldemort existed as a shade from 1981 until last June, possessing in turn people and snakes for various lengths of time."

"And what happened last June?"

"By use of a ritual, the Dark Lord found a way to return his spirit to a magically constructed body. It is probably the most hideous thing you could ever lay eyes upon, save for Medusa, and now he is active once more in his campaign to rule the world."

"And it is up to you to stop him? Forgive Us for sounding skeptical, Viscount, but you are naught more than a schoolboy."

"You are forgiven, ma'am. But it may interest you to know that including 1981, I have faced Voldemort five times. I have dueled him in a proper fashion once, and I have bested him three times. The first time, in '81, I destroyed his body and turned him into a shade. In '91, I destroyed the body of his host and caused him to flee once again as a shade. In '92, I faced a part of his spirit and destroyed it for good. I was 15 months old, 11 years old, and 12 years old, respectively," Harry said.

The Queen was silent, and Harry saw the astonishment upon her face.

"There is also supposedly a prophecy regarding myself and Voldemort, though I am skeptical as to its continued effect, given the way it was worded."

"We will hear this prophecy," the Queen ordered. Harry paused a moment, then recited from memory.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not; and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.

"My mother and father supposedly defied him three times, not sure how. I was born on July 31st. It is the opinion of my advisor that the scar on my forehead marks me as the Dark Lord's equal. Nobody is sure as to what this unknown power is. But the wording that says that I will vanquish him is the point of debate, because technically, I have done that. Several times, actually."

"Your reasoning appears sound, Viscount," the Queen said. "Though there is also the line about one of you dying at the other's hand."

"Yes, there is that," Harry said, rather distastefully. "At any rate, ma'am, as of my sixteenth birthday, I inherited my father's title of Viscount Potter, and his position as Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights because of ancient magic in place since the time of the Norman Conquest. I am here before you, as I said, to tell you that we replaced Minister Fudge – the man who likely told you the Dark Lord was dead – with a new Minister today. His name is Amos Diggory, and his son was murdered in front of me by one of the Dark Lord's followers in June of '94."

"And also to swear fealty to Us as Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights?" the Queen asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Very well then. You may swear your oath before Us. But then, We will expect you to give us an update as to the state of Our magical subjects. It has been Our experience that you do not topple your Government lightly, and We wish to know what is wrong."

"Yes, your Majesty." Harry knelt once again before her, drawing his sword and planting it into the carpet, bowing his head to touch it to the hilt.

"I, Harry James Potter, Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Scarlet Knights of Avebury do swear everlasting fealty to the Crown of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the successor-state to the Kingdom of England, and to its ruling Monarch, King or Queen, for as long as I shall live. Should I break my oath, may my life and magic be forfeit."

"You may rise, Viscount," the Queen said once more, as the clock struck 5:00. "Now, sheath that blade and start talking."

Harry complied, and began telling the Queen of his experiences with the Ministry of Magic. The letters from his second and fifth year, the Dementors in his third, their smear campaign through the Prophet, Fudge's place in Lucius Malfoy's pocket (he was interrupted here by a question about Narcissa and Draco, and he explained as best he could the relationship between them and what he was doing for them), and particularly the dozens of "Educational Decrees" of the previous year.

"I think it goes without saying that Your Majesty's Government in the non-magical world is far less…archaic, corrupt, and intrusive, though from what I hear, if Labour wins the next general election, that last one may change," he said at 6:30, eliciting a chuckle from the Queen.

"A Tory, are you, Viscount?"

"My Uncle is, and he's pretty much the only person I ever hear talking about politics," Harry said. "I could personally care less."

"Ah. A Liberal Democrat then," Her Majesty replied with a grin. "From what We have heard, Viscount, We are very much concerned about the state of Our magical subjects. We will be doing some research in the coming months into what We can do to help rectify this," she said.

"The Prime Minister may be able to help you there, ma'am," Harry replied. "Minister Diggory was traveling to meet with him while I was on my way here."

"Perhaps We shall consult with him, then," the Queen said. "I suggest you do some research of your own, Viscount. We will be in contact. Jacob will send you an owl if I need to speak with you in the coming months. Until then, We believe you have some people and things waiting for you."

Harry looked at the clock and paled. "Bloody Hell," he muttered under his breath. "Draco's never going to let me hear the end of this…" With one final bow to the Queen, Harry left the drawing room, walking back out through the Throne Room and towards Jacob the Wizards office.

"Finally, Potter," Draco exclaimed once he walked in. "We've only been waiting here for a bloody hour. What the Hell have you been doing?"

"Oh, just chatting with the Queen," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant, like it was something he did every day.

"What!?" Draco exclaimed.

"How daft are you?" Harry asked his schoolmate. "We're in Buckingham Palace, you twit, what else would I be doing? Snogging the Duke of Edinburgh? Don't answer that."

"Well forgive me for not knowing you were so close to the Palace," Draco said, still sounding disbelieving. "But that's not the point."

"Oh, it's the point, trust me," Harry said, and stopped talking to Draco. "Mrs. Malfoy. I trust the wait was not too excruciating?"

"It was fine, my Lord," Narcissa replied. "I, at least, understood the necessity."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Oh good, my clothes," he said, spotting several garment bags hanging from the hatrack.

"Tilly?" he asked once more, waiting for the elf to appear. When she did, he handed off the bags. "Could you get these in my closet? I'm about to return home, so if you could have the kitchen staff start on dinner, that'd be great."

"Tilly will be doing as Master asks," the elf informed him and popped away again.

"Excellent. Now then…to the bloody Floo," Harry said, shooting the fireplace a dirty glare. "The address is Potter Manor. Who wants to go first?" he asked, quickly finding the office's supply of Floo powder.

"I will," Narcissa said. "It's been a while…" she commented, throwing the powder into the fire and stating the destination.

"Draco, you next then," Harry said, offering him a pinch of powder. Draco too was soon gone, leaving Harry, who followed suit soon after, and landed on wobbly feet once again.

"Damn, I can't wait to apparate," he muttered. "I hate this bloody thing."

"Looks like the feeling's mutual," James' portrait replied from above the fireplace.

"Oh sod off, Dad," Harry muttered, brushing the soot off himself.

"Mind explaining why there're Malfoys in the house?" he asked, glaring towards Narcissa and Draco.

"Erm…sure," Harry said. "I've given them sanctuary, at Narcissa's request. She's a Black by birth, and I'm Lord Black too."

"But…they're Malfoys," James said.

"Dad, not now," Harry said. "We'll talk later, I need to show them to their rooms."

"Thank you, my Lord," Narcissa said from the couch, rising.

"You're welcome. Follow me upstairs, please. Didn't you bring anything?"

"Our trunks are shrunken in Draco's bag," she replied. "Lead on."

"Alright," Harry replied, and escorted the Malfoys to guest rooms upstairs. He pointed out where the bathrooms were, and gave a general idea of what time meals were, and then they all returned downstairs for dinner.

At dinner, Harry was rather put off by the level of formality displayed by both Draco and Mrs. Mafloy. He figured it was probably due to their pureblooded upbringings, something he sorely lacked. He spent most of his dinner wondering about the sorts of things Draco had been taught during his childhood while Harry was running around Surrey avoiding Dudley and trying to learn long division. A lot of those things were things Harry felt he probably should know, now that he was becoming a Very Important Person.

"Draco," Harry finally asked, near the end of the meal. "D'you know anything about swordfighting?"

Malfoy looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Of course I do, Potter," he said. "I am, after all, a pureblood."

"You don't have to be such a prat about it," Harry said. "I need somebody to teach me how to properly use a sword, amongst other things. A tutor, if you will, on how to act like someone of my station should."

"Sure, why not?" Draco replied, without a moment of consideration.

"Really?" It went without saying that Harry was rather confused at the speed at which Malfoy had agreed.

"What else am I going to do this month?" Draco answered. "Besides, it's free shots at you, why would I ever turn that down?" he asked with a sneer. Harry was strongly reminded of Professor Snape at that moment, and wondered just how much of that man's behaviour and animosity towards him had rubbed off on Draco.

"Draco, behave!" his mother admonished. She looked worried that he would do something to make Harry consider rescinding the offer of sanctuary. Harry internally wondered the same thing.

"Fine. I'll come find you sometime tomorrow morning," Harry said, finishing his meal.

"G'night!" he announced, leaving the table and heading up to his room, where he collapsed into the desk chair, thinking about everything that had happened earlier in the day. Calling Hedwig to him, he hastily scratched out a note to Hermione, asking her to Floo over in the morning to help him with what he called "homework." With that done, he collapsed on his bed and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry about the length, but there was just so much that needed to go into this chapter... The next chapter is going to be considerably shorter, and will be out on the 30th. 5,000 words...holy hell._

_Reviews are, as always, appreciated._

_Phoenix II  
_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Here you go, everybody! Nearly forgot today was the 30th...gonna blame that one on the Spring allergies that have had me miserable for the last week! Anyway, this one is a little bit of a shorter chapter (first one in quite some time that's not 3000 words, actually D:), mostly exposition and pure plot-driving. One of a few paperwork chapters, for lack of a better term, that will occupy the time between now and Hogwarts. Next update will occur April 10, and will take Harry for a brief visit to No. 12 and the Weasleys._

_Please enjoy, and review!  
_

* * *

The next morning, shortly after 10 AM, Harry heard the Floo flare up in the parlour. Walking out from the office, he was promptly grabbed into a hug by Hermione.

"Good morning to you too," he said with a grin once he was released.

"What professor assigned you an assignment so bloody hard you had to have me over?" Hermione asked, straight to the point.

"Erm. It's not for school," Harry said, embarrassed. Hermione looked confused.

"Then what is it?"

"It's an assignment from Her Majesty."

Hermione was silent. Harry was beginning to wonder, as they entered the second full minute of silence, if he had broken his friend.

"Just when did you speak with The Queen and what did you tell her to get an assignment that makes you involve me?"

Harry pondered just how much he could talk about what was going on out in the open, then grabbed Hermione's hand and led her into the office, shutting and magically sealing the door.

"Yesterday," Harry said, sitting down in the comfortable green leather chair behind the desk. "After the Wizengamot session, Dumbledore sent me to the Palace to inform Her Majesty that we had sacked Fudge and replaced him with Mr. Diggory. I also had to swear fealty to her as part of my duties for the Knights. Then, we got to talking about the Ministry, and I told her as much as I knew about how the place is run and what I think is wrong with it. Then, she told me that she would be meeting with the Prime Minister and doing some 'research' and told me to do the same," Harry explained.

Hermione was silent again.

"You made the Queen get involved in the Wizarding world again?" she asked, aghast.

"What? No!" Harry said. "I didn't _make_ her do anything!"

"Mmhm," Hermione said. "So the fact that she's going to be poring over laws and books that go back hundreds of years because of your meeting is purely coincidental?"

"Yeah?" Harry replied. "I mean, it's not like I asked her to assume direct rule over us. How much influence does she have over us anyway? What did you mean, 'get involved in the Wizarding world again'?"

"The Crown has not been involved in our world since Queen Victoria," Hermione said. "But The Queen would have a fair bit of influence should she choose to exert it. There are several Secret Acts of Parliament dating back to the Restoration after Cromwell that give Her Majesty the same powers over us that she exercises in the Muggle world, plus a few more that no longer exist in the Muggle world simply because of the fact that our society has not advanced far beyond the Victorian period. Before those, there are provisions for Royal involvement in our world that date back to the Magna Carta and beyond!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Contrary to what you and Ronald may believe, I'm not a bloody enclyclopaedia, Harry," she snapped back at him. "Do you have a library in this place?"

"Yeah. Upstairs. C'mon," Harry said, unlocking the door and leading Hermione up to the library. She spent five minutes scanning the titles before grabbing a book and opening it on a reading desk.

"This one's a few editions out of date, but it still gives you the gist of the matter," she said, pointing out a list to Harry.

"She can, if she wants, sack the Minister and everybody in the Ministry, save for the Wizengamot. You are essentially a member of the Third House of Parliament; there are the House of Commons, the House of Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the House of Lords Magical, which goes by the name of the Wizengamot in accordance with tradition. She can grant or rescind the Letters Patent that grant the families their titles, and can 'promote' Members to higher ranks.

"She can also, in effect, veto any laws you pass in there. All Laws passed by a House of Parliament must receive Royal Assent to actually take effect. I wonder if anything passed since Victoria died has even taken effect…" Hermione said, trailing off. "I actually highly doubt Fudge even bothered to send any legislation to the Palace once it was rammed through the Wizengamot, we'll have to check with the Ministry's Records Department."

"Erm, you were saying?" Harry asked, trying to get Hermione back on topic.

"Oh. Erm. Any witch or wizard convicted by the Wizengamot's courts has the right to appeal his or her conviction to the Queen and the Privy Council. She also can appoint officers of the Order of Merlin. Apparently the medals the Ministry hands out are like the French Legion d'honneur. That's pretty much all the important stuff."

"So…what's there to research?" Harry asked. Hermione smacked him upside the back of his head.

"Prat. Whether or not any of our laws are in effect! How many Members of the Wizengamot actually have valid Letters Patent! If she can do anything to purge the Ministry of the corrupt morons that currently run it! All sorts of things, Harry!"

"Great. So, you wanna be in charge of all this? I've got things to do this month, and I don't think I can fit in reading everything the Wizengamot's passed in the last 90 years plus all that other stuff."

"And just why is that?" Hermione asked. She got her answer when Draco showed up in the doorway.

"_There_ you are, Potter. I've been looking for you for half a bloody hour. I thought you said you wanted to start this morning. Oh, hey Granger," he said, adding his greetings to Hermione as an afterthought. _At least_, Harry thought, _he didn't call her Mudblood._

"Harry," Hermione growled. "What the bloody hell is Malfoy doing here?"

"Living here," Harry answered. "Oh, and tutoring me in stuff."

"I think you need to start explaining things, Harry James Potter," Hermione said. "Why is _MALFOY_ living in your house, and _WHAT_ kinds of stuff is he going to be tutoring you in?"

"I'm here, Granger, because my Mother doesn't want to die at the hands of the Dark Lord or of Father, and because I don't want Potter there to run me through with his pretty sword for being a Death Eater," Draco replied. "As for what I'm going to be tutoring him in, he has yet to tell me much of anything beyond 'pureblood things'."

"YOU GAVE HIM SANCTUARY!?" Hermione shouted at Harry.

"Yes, I gave him sanctuary," Harry replied. "He is, after all, technically family."

"And what do you need to know about 'pureblood things' for?"

"Being the Lord of two pureblood families, obviously," Draco replied. "I imagine he'll probably want instruction in politics, finance, customs and the like in addition to the swordfighting lessons."

Hermione glared.

"Oh relax, Granger. It's not like I'm going to try to turn him into a Death Eater or a Dark Lord," Draco said with a scowl. "Hell, I'm even trying to be civil."

"And doing a good job of it, thank you, Draco," Harry said. "I need a few minutes more with Hermione and then we can start."

"Sure thing, milord," Draco said, leaving the library once again and shutting the door behind him.

"I can't believe you, Harry," she said once again. "He's MALFOY."

"Yes, Hermione, I know he's Malfoy. But honestly, I wish more Slytherins would approach me and ask for sanctuary for themselves and their families. Every person who promises to at least not fight against me is one less person who can fight for Voldemort, and one less person I'll have to kill for no reason other than to prevent them from killing me, or you, or anyone else they don't like," Harry said. Hermione looked at him like he'd grown two new heads.

"I'll bet you five Galleons Dumbledore will say I did a good thing when you tell him," Harry said, grinning.

"No bet, Harry," Hermione said. "Ron's not going to like this, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I'll tell him the same thing I told you, though I'll probably have to say it quite a bit louder and several more times before he accepts it. Wanna bet on THAT?"

"No, Harry, I'm not going to make sucker bets with you. Can we get back to what we were talking about before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"Sure," Harry said. "What would you need to do this research for me?"

"Most likely, you to be willing to make several trips to the Ministry to get things for me." Harry frowned.

"I know you hate the bloody place, but it's easier than owling them requests for records and waiting three weeks for them to deny it."

"Fine," Harry said. "I'll head over there this afternoon after I finish with Draco and try to get copies of all those laws."

"Thank you, Harry. I'll drop by tomorrow to pick them up. Same time alright?"

"Maybe a bit earlier. You saw how impatient Draco got," Harry said.

"Good point," Hermione replied. "I'll see you at 9:30 tomorrow then," she said. "Don't worry, I can find my way back to the Floo."

"Alright," Harry said. As soon as she left, Draco walked back in.

"About bloody time."

"Stuff it," Harry huffed. "What are we doing today, anyway? I've got to spend three hours in the dusty Archives at the Ministry this afternoon, apparently."

"Well, I was planning on finding a training room here and slicing your clothes to ribbons while you attempt to learn how to actually use a sword, but if you've got other arrangements, I suppose we can start by discerning what little you know about this brave new world you've so brashly inserted yourself into."

Harry glared.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that means you know very little. Of course, you _were_ raised by Muggles, didn't know you had any titles until your birthday, and had no idea that you actually could have been living by yourself in Hogwarts since the day you arrived."

"I what?" Harry asked.

"Scions of the Wizarding nobility have always had the option of private quarters within the houses. Living in communal dormitories is quite plebian, after all. Then again, you _are_ a Gryffindor. Might as well be bloody Hufflepuffs when it comes to camaraderie."

"I assume, then, that you, Nott, and Zabini have private rooms in Slytherin, then?"

"Yep," Draco said. "Crabbe and Goyle don't because they're not noble families, they're client families of the Malfoys. They get money, we get their service, such as it is. Not that they've produced a capable wizard in the last three generations at least. Between you and me, those two are closer to being Squibs than Longbottom, but I'll never repeat that in public."

"OK. I just got through with a lecture about what involvement the Queen can technically have in our world, so I know a little bit about the government bits, but that can wait. What I really want to know, the question that's been burning on my mind since I first met you, is why the Hell do purebloods have such ridiculous names?"

Draco looked stricken.

"_What_ did you just ask me?" he asked.

"What the Hell is up with pureblood names," Harry asked. "I mean, you and your mum are named for stars and constellations, you father's name, Professor Snape's name, amongst many, many others, is Roman…"

"You just answered your own question, Potter," Draco replied.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked. "Something to do with Romans?"

"Everything to do with Romans, you idiot. If you had _ever_ paid attention to Binns, you'd know that there _were_ no witches and wizards in Britain before the Legions came. There were druids, sure, but no wand-wielding wizards. Witches and wizards, like most decent things, came from Rome. Haven't you ever bothered to notice how many of our spells are derived from Latin?"

"No?"

Draco sighed. "At least 40 percent of our spells have some Latin component to them. Most modern spells are incanted in the language that they are developed in, but the basics and the classics are nearly all Latin in origin."

"But then how does that reflect on Pureblood naming?" Harry asked, not wanting to let Draco steer the conversation in a different direction.

"It's a way of honouring our forefathers from Rome," Draco explained. "Hell, even you have a Roman-derived name."

"What? I do bloody well not," Harry said, but the rest of his retort was cut off by Draco.

"Potter."

"What?"

"Potter. Like the Latin word _Pater_, pronounced more or less exactly the same. Means Father in Latin. You might have even been named Hadrian, like the Emperor who built the Wall."

"But…the name of Malfoy…that's French, you prat."

"Gallic," Malfoy corrected. "Modern French, but you forget who ruled Gaul since before the time of Julius Caesar. Besides. Proper French aren't blonds."

"Part-Veela excepted," Harry said, recalling Fleur and her family.

"Yes, of course," Draco replied. "Now, your inane question about Pureblood naming answered, what else can we cover before lunch?"

"Am I going to have to go to balls?" Harry asked, very timidly. Draco's evil grin made him gulp involuntarily.

"Oh yes, Potter. You are going to have to go to balls, _and_ not make an arse of yourself!"

"Nooo!" Harry whined. "Anything but that!"

"Oh yes," Draco said, pressing. "And you shall have to wear dress robes, and dance with pretty girls, and not step on their toes, and even pretend you would be willing to shag some of them!"

"…What?"

"Pureblooded women are very…promiscuous," Draco explained. "For instance, you know of the relationship Pansy and I had. It was purely sexual, I love her about as much as I love that Muggle sport with the ball and the kicking…"

"You don't like football?" Harry asked.

"I loathe football," Draco replied. "Bloody stupid sport, if you ask me. What's the point of watching ninety minutes of twenty-two blokes running around a pitch kicking alternatively a ball and each other if there's a chance that neither side may score?"

"Well," Harry started, before pausing. "I suppose it's like flirting with a particularly voluptuous girl. There's a chance you might score with her, but there's also a chance you get kicked in the balls. Only difference is, other football players don't have big tits, and they get sent off if they kick you in the balls."

"Still stupid," Draco replied. "Anyway, we like to hook up with each other after balls. The most fun part is 'sampling the wares', if you will, or if you won't, the flirting and the copping-of-feels. Then, as the party winds down, you pick the witch or three that you want to spend the rest of the night shagging senseless and take them home. They leave the next morning, and if you're married, your wife comes home from whoever's house she spent the night at, and you don't talk about it."

"O…K…" Harry said, slowly, a bit put off at the idea of such cavalier sex lives amongst wizards. Then he imagined Dumbledore dressed as a swinger and shuddered.

"Virgin, Potter?" Malfoy asked with a smirk. Harry glared.

"Virgin," Malfoy confirmed with a nod of his head. "Ah well, that'll change soon enough."

"What, you're going to get me laid?"

"Oh, maybe," Draco replied, airily.

"Your mother's not THAT hot, y'know," Harry muttered, before being promptly smacked upside the head by Draco.

"That's not what your grandfather thought," he replied with a leer. Harry paled.

"SICK!"


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Ah, back to "normal" with this chapter, with some witty banter between Draco and Harry, some angry!Ron, and some suspicious!Weasleys. I'd like to thank everybody (all almost 100 of you!) who have this on alert, and the 10 (TEN!?!) who decided this little tale is worthy of inclusion in their C2. Needless to say, I'm impressed with those numbers, but there's always room for improvement. Please continue to review and let me know what you think about where I'm taking the story!_

_Thanks, and enjoy.  
_

_

* * *

_After lunch, Harry and Draco retired to a room Harry had found on the second floor that looked like a ballet studio, with large windows looking out over the grounds, polished wood floors, and padded walls (except for the one made up of mirrors).

"Potter, why are we in a dance studio?" Draco asked.

"Because, Malfoy, we're going to dance," Harry said with a grin, quickly drawing his sword and pointing it at Draco's chest and adopting a stern expression, which he was able to maintain for all of three second before dissolving into laughter.

Malfoy simply looked at him strangely before Harry realised the blond had missed the Muggle phrase. Harry took a moment to compose himself, coughing slightly and lowering the sword before speaking again.

"So anyway, this is no longer a dance studio. This is the practice room," Harry said. "These mirrors are enchanted to record what goes on in here at my signal, and can play it back afterwards, so you can show me what I'm doing wrong and help me fix it."

"Handy," Draco remarked. "Do they go 24/7, then?"

"No, just when I want them to. I learned the spell quite by accident."

"I'm sure. Are you going to stand there and chatter all afternoon, or are we going to get started?" Draco asked. "After all, you do have to be at the Ministry today to play errand-boy for Granger."

Harry's expression darkened as he conjured a second sword for Malfoy, waving his wand at the mirror as he stalked to one end of the floor. Malfoy took to the other, taking out his own wand and pointing it at first Harry, then himself, muttering a series of charms.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked as he felt the tingle of charms on his body.

"So we don't kill ourselves practicing, Potter," Malfoy explained. "The charms prevent us from doing any damage to each other should we not manage to block one another."

"I see," Harry said. "Thank you for that." Malfoy smirked, putting his wand away. Harry nodded, and out of the blue charged at the blond, ready to attack. The series ended almost before it began, as Draco met his first swing, parried it expertly, then blocked his second and riposted in such a fashion that Harry was disarmed and Draco's swing was only stopped from taking his head off by the charm.

"Boom, you're dead," the blond drawled. Harry blinked at him, twice.

"Fuck," was all Harry could manage, still in a bit of shock.

"Indeed, Potter," Draco replied. "But then, it's not like you've been doing this sort of thing since you were six."

"Six? Wouldn't you have been shorter than the sword?"

"Very funny, Potter. It wasn't a full-sized sword, obviously." Draco was miffed. "Now, what did you do wrong?"

"Apparently, everything," Harry said. Malfoy scowled.

"Potter, go rewind the damn mirrors," he instructed, conjuring two chairs for them to sit on while watching the recording. He spent the next five minutes watching, re-watching, and critiquing Harry's form, after which they banished the stools and went at it again.

This time, Harry lasted six blows before Malfoy got in a strike that would have cost Harry one of his legs. Despite the marked improvement, Draco was still scathing in his critique of Harry. This time, though, he decided to walk Harry through a slow mock duel. After all, it was how he'd learned, it wasn't fair to him to just hammer him again and again and hope something rubbed off.

Just when he felt Harry was about to get the basics of it, the grandfather clock down the hall chimed three times.

"Bollocks, I'd better get to the Ministry," Harry said. "Tomorrow, same time?" he asked.

"Sure," Draco agreed. "But I want to see the book you bought. It seems like it's total rubbish, from what you've managed to do so far!"

"It's on my dresser," Harry replied, walking out of the room, sheathing his sword. "Have fun!"

Flooing once more into the Ministry, Harry decided the best place for him to start would be at the Wizengamot offices. From there, he was sure somebody could give him directions on where to go.

"Good afternoon, Lord Potter," said the witch who'd taken his measurements the previous day for his robes. "I'm afraid they're not quite ready yet."

"I'm not here for the robes, actually," Harry stated. "I need copies of every law passed by the Wizengamot since 1901." She dropped the armful of memos she was carrying.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. It's for a little research project I'm doing," he said, flashing her a grin.

"Do you want just the bills, or – "

"Every last thing, even if it's a resolution praising the Ministry's chief kneazle-catcher," Harry said.

"Ah, bloody hell," she sighed. "Well, they did say you were going to make this place exciting again. Let's go write a memo, Lord Potter."

Harry followed her to her desk as she wrote out an official request and signed it, showing Harry where his own signature was required. Since he would be taking it down to the Records Room himself, there was no need to charm it into the paper aeroplane shape it normally assumed.

"While they get those together for you, would you mind terribly coming back up here so we can sort out your office space? The Potter Family's office hasn't been opened since the late '70s, Merlin only knows what we'll find in there."

"Sure thing," Harry said, walking out of the Wizengamot offices. "See you in a few."

And it was back to the lift, this time descending to the level holding the Hall of Records, where he walked up to the cage the on-duty clerk was sitting and handed over the request.

He grinned when the clerk paled after seeing what Harry wanted.

"How long?"

"Erm…" the clerk said, looking up. "An hour and a half?"

"Make it an hour," Harry said. "I'll see you then," he added, turning on his heel and walking back to the lifts."

Returning to the Wizengamot offices, he was led down a hall to a door with a gryffon-shaped knocker and a name plate that read "Viscount Potter:" and was then blank.

"How does this work?" Harry asked.

"Just grab the doorknob. It might hurt," she warned as he grabbed it and immediately yelped as his hand was pricked.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, as the lock clicked open and his name appeared on the name plate.

"Blood magic. Gotta love grandfather clauses," the witch said with a grin. "Well, might as well go inside, no?" Harry pushed the door open and was astounded to see a virtual copy of his office at the Manor. Except a considerable bit dustier.

"Bloody hell," he said again.

"I did say it's been 20 years," the witch reminded him.

"Tilly!" Harry said, and immediately his elf popped into the room. And promptly sneezed.

"Master Harry, why are you in such a filthy place!?" she chastised him.

"It's not my fault!" Harry exclaimed, raising his hands in defence. "Apparently Grandfather didn't make arrangements to have this place cleaned."

"Well, don't look at Tilly," the elf said. "I and the other elves is being busy with your home. You wills need to get another elf to deal with this." And she promptly popped away, leaving Harry shocked.

"Bit bossy, your house-elf," the witch commented.

"Yeah, her family seems to have been off kilter for the last few generations," Harry remarked. Where could he find a house-elf to clean this mess up for him? Then inspiration struck him.

"Dobby!"

"Master Harry Potter Sir is calling for Dobby?" the excitable elf called in his tinny voice as he popped in, and sneezed.

"Erm…yes, Dobby. I need some help in getting this place…not so filthy."

"Dobby will help Master Harry Potter sir!" Dobby replied. "Dobby would be honoured to help clean Master Harry Potter Sir's office!" With a snap of his fingers, Dobby was wearing a mask over his nose and mouth that Harry had last seen on the faces of the painters Aunt Petunia had hired to re-paint the kitchen at Number Four.

"Er…thanks, Dobby," Harry replied. "That's great, but didn't we talk about you calling not calling me Master?"

"Yes," Dobby replied, from where he was beginning to remove the dust from the office. "Great Wizard Master Harry Potter Sir has asked Dobby not to call him such, but Dobby is a free elf and will address Great Wizard Master Harry Potter Sir however Dobby pleases."

"I'll give you ten Galleons not to call me that," Harry said.

"No deal," Dobby replied. "Great Wizard Master Harry Potter Sir is too humble for his own good, and should consider himself lucky Dobby is not addressing him formally."

Harry, blanching at the thought and wondering just what else Dobby could add to his name, wisely decided to quit while he was ahead.

"Alright, alright, you win, Dobby. Just…do your thing, I suppose."

"Of course, Great Wizard Master Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby squeaked, returning to his work and letting Harry and the witch show themselves out. Once they were in the hallway once more, she started laughing uncontrollably.

"THAT made my bloody day!" she exclaimed, once she had control of herself once more (Harry counted five minutes standing awkwardly in the hallway while she laughed her arse off).

"C'mon, Great Wizard Master Harry Potter Sir," she replied, chortling. "We won't bother with the Black office right now, but you might want to have that elf give that a little TLC too, just so it doesn't deteriorate like yours has."

Harry was very grumpy at this point, and waited around in the outer office for the clock to tick towards 4:30, at which time he planned to be back in the Hall of Records. He noticed that very few people trickled into the Wizengamot offices, mostly reporters from the _Prophet_ looking for information or comment on Wizengamot business, and judicial business at that. That in turn made Harry start wondering idly if he would have to serve on a Wizengamot jury during the school year, or if there were exemptions made for that sort of thing.

His musings were interrupted by a wad of parchment to the head.

"Oi, Potter! It's half-four, get a move on!" the witch who'd been playing gofer for him shouted, summoning the parchment back. Muttering things about cheeky wenches, he headed back to the lifts and returned to the Hall of Records, where a very peeved off file clerk was waiting for him with 30 boxes of official documents.

"I'll go out on a limb and assume you'd like these shrunk, then?" the clerk asked. Harry nodded and soon after signed off on a receipt for 90 years' worth of records which he was now carrying in his pocket.

His errand done, he returned to the Atrium, stepping into the fireplace and calling out "Number 12, Grimmauld Place!"

His arrival at Grimmauld Place was met with five wands in his face before he was recognized.

"Hello to you too," Harry replied to Ron, Molly, Mad-Eye, Remus and Ginny, calmly stepping out of the fireplace once the wands were lowered.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "I thought you weren't staying here this summer?"

"I'm not," Harry replied. "I've just got to drop something off with Hermione, is she around?"

"Library," Ginny replied. "And she's been in there since she got back from your place. What have you got her doing?"

"My homework from Elizabeth," Harry replied, heading off towards the library, leaving five stunned witches and wizards in his wake.

"Who's Elizabeth?" Ginny asked. Ron shrugged, and their mother hit them both 'round the head.

"The Queen!" she said. Harry grinned as both redheads gasped before he disappeared into the Library.

"'Mione? I got those records you wanted," he called out, looking for his bushy-haired friend.

"Over here, Harry!" Hermione called, somewhere from deeper into the room. Harry spent a good couple minutes discerning where it had come from (but not resorting to a point-me spell) before he found her.

"Well?"

"Congratulations, you just got me on the bad side of the Ministry's file clerks," Harry said with a grin, pulling out the shrunk boxes and un-shrinking them.

"Only thirty?" Hermione was suspicious of the (apparent) scarcity of documentation.

"Yeah. Magically expanded, bigger on the inside…I'm sure you know the tricks by now. See the labeling on the front?" Harry asked, pointing. Each box had the dates of the records it contained on the front.

"Oh. Well then, I expect I'll be busy for the rest of the week with this," she said. "I'll see you on Monday, then?"

"Monday's fine. Just, any time in the morning. Or else you'll get the pleasure of watching Malfoy cut my clothes to ribbons," Harry quipped. From the sudden reddening of Hermione's face, he wondered if that wasn't something she'd actually mind watching.

"You alright?"

"Yes, quite," Hermione replied. "Just…let me get started on all this."

"Alright," Harry replied, walking out of the library to be immediately accosted once more by Ron, Ginny, Molly, Mad-Eye and Remus.

"When did you meet the Queen?" Ron goggled.

"Yesterday, after the Wizengamot meeting," Harry said, closing the door to the library. "We had a nice little chat about Voldemort, the Ministry, and that sort of things. Nice lady." The teens were astonished, the adults impressed.

"What sort of homework did she set you, then?" Remus asked.

"To find out things about the Wizengamot and the Ministry," Harry answered. "See if there's any way she can intercede and correct some of the more … glaring issues in our Government."

"Isn't that what you elected Diggory to do?" Mad-Eye asked.

"Ostensibly, yes," Harry replied. "But you've worked in the Ministry, Mad-Eye, the corruption and incompetence is practically ingrained in the culture of the place. A new head isn't going to be able to do that much to change it." Mad-Eye's grunt seemed to confirm his suspicion.

"Well, if you've got homework, doesn't that mean you're going to have to hand it in?" Ron asked.

"Yep. Her Majesty said she'd be in contact with me to see what we can do about it," Harry replied.

"Bloody hell," his friend murmured. "First I'm friends with a celebrity, then he turns out to be a Lord, and now he's mates with the bloody Queen…" Ron sounded astonished at his lot in life.

"Well, what can I say?" Harry asked. "These kinds of things just happen to me."

"Harry, dear, can you stay for dinner?" Molly asked.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley. My house-elves get angry when I miss meals at home, and I've got two new house-guests that might object to my absence."

"House guests?" Remus asked. Harry steeled himself for the explosion that would come.

"Narcissa and Draco," he replied, wincing in anticipation.

Ron, predictably, reacted first and loudest.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, MALFOY AND HIS MUM ARE LIVING WITH YOU!? AND YOU LET HERMIONE IN THE HOUSE TODAY!? HE COULD HAVE HEXED HER!"

"Relax, Ron," Harry said, trying to calm his friend down. "If you can believe it, Malfoy was actually civil to Hermione. Didn't call her mudblood once. He's not that bad of a bloke, really."

"Not that bad!?" Ginny yelled. "He's been your biggest enemy at school since you were a first year!"

"Besides, his father's –"

"I know, Ron, his father's a Death Eater," Harry said with a tired sigh. "Which is why they're living with me now. Narcissa and Draco requested sanctuary from Lucius at the meeting yesterday, since as Lord Black I am now her family's patriarch, and I granted it. Draco expressed no interest in fighting for Voldemort, especially considering what I am now. He's even helping tutor me in how to fight with my sword and how to be a proper Lord."

"But he could –"

"No, Mrs. Weasley, he's not going to corrupt me into being a bigoted pureblood. I have a stronger grasp of my principles and values than that. All I've asked of him is to teach me the basic customs: etiquette, manners, and that sort of thing. Some basic politics and economics. Nothing sinister."

"Aren't you worried he could –"

"No, Remus. We're just learning the basics at this time, and we're using protection charms so I don't lose any limbs."

"And you're –"

"Yes, Mad-Eye, I'm practicing constant vigilance. Their rooms are nowhere near mine, and I erect some rudimentary wards on my door every night before bed," Harry said.

"How do you know how to ward?" Remus asked. "That's way beyond fifth-year material."

"Potter family grimoire," Harry replied. "Page Six."

"And you're sure you can't stay for dinner?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Harry said, with a smile. "But I'd like to have you all around for dinner some time soon. I'll send invitations when I can work it out."

"That would be great," Molly said. "I look forward to it. And do be careful, Harry dear."

"I will," Harry promised. "And guys, don't worry about Malfoy. I'm more likely to turn him into a good guy than he is to turn me into a bad guy. Later."

With that out of the way, Harry returned to the fireplace and Floo'd home.

"How was the Ministry?" Narcissa asked once he stepped out of the Floo.

"Boring. But at least I was able to get started on getting my office up and running."

"Which office, Potter, or Black?"

"Well, I'm a Potter first, so I think I'll be working out of that one, primarily," Harry answered. "But I'm not going to neglect the Black office either. Mine was practically buried in dust."

"Wise answer, Potter," Draco replied, coming downstairs. "What's for dinner?"

"Dunno," Harry answered. "I haven't had a Tuesday meal here yet."

"Dinner is being a beef roast with potatoes and beans!" an elf announced, popping into the room with its chef's hat askew.

"OK, thank you," Harry said.

"Fifteen minutes, Master Harry and guests," the elf said, before popping back to the kitchen.

"Your elves are weird, Potter," Draco said. "Even Dobby wasn't this mad."

"Well, from what Dad tells me, Dobby's ancestor was totally nutters and was the father of pretty much all my elves."

"Lucky you," Draco said.

"I know. The Longbottom's head elf was just as bad."

"You _would_ be responsible for all of Britain's crazy house-elves."

"Yeah, I would," Harry retorted. "But I kinda like it, too. It makes life interesting. Tippy actually refused to clean my office."

"Then how?"

"Dobby," Harry said.

"Dobby?" Draco asked, astonished.

"Dobby!" Harry called.

"Great Wizard Master Harry Potter Sir calls for Dobby?" The little elf was still wearing the dust mask, and looked around the room, quickly spotting Draco and Narcissa, who were trying not to laugh at Harry.

"Why does Master Harry Potter have Malfoys in his home?" Dobby asked, more than a fair amount of venom accompanying the word 'Malfoys'.

"So Voldemort doesn't kill them," Harry answered, quite plainly. "Besides, I don't have Lucius, and wouldn't have him anyway."

"But you still have the young poncey Malfoy," Dobby said, not pleased at all with Harry, who sniggered at hearing Draco called poncey, while Draco frowned.

"I didn't treat you nearly as bad as Father!" Draco replied.

"Tell that to Dobby's poor head," the elf shot back. "His ears were never the same after that time with the Playwizards…" Narcissa shot Draco a rotten look, and Harry doubled over laughing now.

"It's not funny, Master Harry Potter," Dobby said.

"I'm sorry, Dobby. But Narcissa and Draco are my guests…even if Draco is a little poncey."

"Dobby supposes it's something Harry Potter must do as a consequence of being a Great, Merciful Wizard," the elf said with a sigh. "Dobby understands, and is nearly done with the cleaning of Great Merciful Wizard Master Harry Potter Sir's Wizengamot office."

"That's great, Dobby," Harry replied. "Could you pop into the Black office and tidy that up a bit when you're done?"

"Dobby can do," the elf confirmed, and popped out.

"Playwizards?" Harry asked, looking at Draco with a smirk.

"Shut up, Potter."


	12. Chapter 12

A/_N: Sorry for the delay in getting this out...I've been stressed out all day by a paper for one of my History classes and I completely forgot that today was the 20th. As usual, I hope you enjoy!

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_

By the end of the week, Harry had actually managed to impress Draco with his grasp of the basics of what he was teaching him. He'd passed tests on Pureblood culture, etiquette, and Wizarding politics, but Draco was still tops at swordfighting.

It was just after the start of their second morning practice fight when they heard a blood-curdling shriek from the first floor. Draco paled.

"Mum," he murmured, disengaging from Harry and running out of the room. Harry followed.

"What's happening?" he called after Draco, both boys running through the house.

"Lucius!" Draco called after. "He must have returned to the Manor and discovered us missing." They found Narcissa collapsed upon the carpet in Harry's office, screaming in pain. Draco recognized what was going on immediately, seeing the parchment that was hovering over his mother.

"He's using the marriage contract to torture her for leaving him," the blond told him. "You have to cancel it!"

"How the hell do I do that?" Harry asked. Draco hurriedly wrote him another note.

"I, Harry Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, do hereby declare the marriage contract between Narcissa of the House of Black and Lucius of the House of Malfoy cancelled for cause." A jet of pale blue light shot out from Harry's hand to the contract, and upon contact Narcissa's screams immediately ceased. The document itself tore itself to shreds with Harry's words.

Draco had just finished helping his mother off the floor when he himself staggered.

"What happened?" Harry asked, concerned Lucius had done something to Draco as well.

"I feel like I've been punched in the chest," Draco said. "And I can't remember my last name."

"He's cast you out of the family," Narcissa replied weakly. "That blow you felt was him blasting your name off the family tapestry."

"Well, there's only one thing I can do for you, then, Draco," Harry said. "And no, I don't need a note for this, I remember the wording from yesterday."

Draco nodded.

"I, Harry Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, do hereby extend membership into the House of Black for Draco, formerly of the House of Malfoy, son of Narcissa Black, granting him the privilege of the Black Family Name."

"I, Draco, son of Narcissa, accept the offer of the Lord Black to take the name of his Family as my own," Draco said. A black thread was created between Harry, Draco, and Narcissa., and it flashed briefly.

"Welcome to the family, Draco Black," Harry said, holding out his hand. Draco took it.

"You know what this means, right?" he asked.

"You're now my cousin?" Harry asked in response.

"Paperwork," Draco replied, grinning. Harry groaned.

"Ministry?" Draco nodded.

"And, milord, you must re-extend your offer of Sanctuary, as Draco and Narcissa Malfoy no longer exist," Narcissa said from her seat.

Harry was quick to do so, and they were quick to accept.

"One thing I've been wondering," Harry said. "Do you have to stay cooped up here, or can you come places with me?"

"Potter, I'm not doing the paperwork for you," Draco said.

"The protection works best if we remain secluded," Narcissa said, ignoring Draco's outburst. "But there should be no tremendous risk to our security should we accompany you to the Ministry."

"Excellent!" Harry said, cheerfully. "We'll be off after lunch, then!"

Of course, Harry's plans for that day, however recently constructed and well-laid, were rather suddenly vapourised by the arrival of a veritable flock of owls. An owl from Hogwarts for Harry, another for Draco, two owls from the Ministry for Harry, one for Draco, Pig bearing a letter from Ron, a majestic eagle owl with a letter for Draco, plus Hedwig with a note from Dumbledore, if Harry recognized the handwriting correctly.

"Bloody hell."

"Well. I was indeed wondering when we would get our Hogwarts letters and OWL results," Draco remarked casually, gathering up all his envelopes. "You, of course, got fan mail on top of those, Potter."

"Sod off, Black," Harry shot back. "Only one of these is probably fan mail."

He opened the thickest letter from the Ministry first, and saw that it was his OWL results.

"**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results for Viscount Harry James Potter**

Astronomy – A

Care of Magical Creatures – E

Charms – E

Defence Against the Dark Arts – O

Divination – P

Herbology – E

History of Magic – D

Potions – E

Transfiguration – E

Congratulations, Lord Potter. The Wizarding Examinations Authority would like to note that you have received the Certificate of Merit in your year for your Defence score. Certificates of Merit are given to the student with the top score in each tested subject. The certificate will be presented by Headmaster Dumbledore in early September."

"Impressive," Draco said. "I got Certificates for Potions and History. I'd wager Longbottom got it for Herbology, Granger in Transfiguration, possibly Charms as well. Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin probably took the Certificates for Runes and Arithmancy, and that blonde skank with the tits in Gryffindor probably got it for Divination by virtue of having her nose planted firmly in Trelawney's arse…"

"Draco, language!" Narcissa chided.

"Anyway, what d'you think your schedules going to look like this year?" he asked. "Without History and Divination, you should have a good chunk of your mornings free, if you want to continue your lessons."

"I'll have my whole morning free," Harry said. "Since I can't get into Snape's NEWT class with an E."

"Snape's not teaching potions this year," Draco said. "He was practically Riverdancing through the Manor at my birthday party when Dumbledore told him he'd finally let him teach Defence."

"Oh, Merlin, no," Harry moaned. "Not Defence! Why couldn't he move him to History!?"

"Severus is brilliant at Defence, Potter," Narcissa commented. "He won the Certificate of Merit when we sat our OWLs."

"But Defence is right now the only class I have that I'm not in danger of hospitalization!"

"What about Astronomy?" Draco asked, bewildered.

"Meteor showers? Asteroids? Telescopes are heavy, and somebody could always push me off the tower." Harry was confused when Draco all of a sudden doubled over laughing

"Oh, man up, Potter," Draco replied between chuckles. "If your shield charm is up to snuff, you won't have anything to worry about from Severus."

"Well then. If he's teaching Defence, who's teaching Potions?"

"Snape's predecessor, Slughorn. He's a … "

"He's a walrus," Narcissa said. "Brilliant potions master, but a walrus, who was more concerned with his social club than teaching in his later years."

"Social club?"

"Oh yes. The 'Slug Club'. He picks the people with the most potential out of the 5th, 6th, and 7th years and forms a little dinner club, which he then uses to form connections with the people who eventually run our world. He's chummy with the editor of the Prophet, the Captain of the Harpies, and more than a few people in the Ministry, for starters."

"And he'll let me in his class?"

"For the opportunity to get close to you? He'd let you in if you had a T, so long as it would give him an opportunity to curry your favour."

"Brilliant," Harry muttered. "I suppose this means I'll be spending an inordinate amount of time in the dungeons pretending to like people?"

"Yes," Draco said. "And remember what I told you."

"That is extremely bloody unlikely, Draco," Harry replied. "Now then…Hogwarts letters?" Both boys opened these letters, and a badge fell out of each.

"Quidditch Captain," Harry said, in sync with Draco. "Oh, that's just brilliant." Scowling at each other, they both returned to their letters.

Harry noted that he was eligible to take NEWT level courses in all of his core classes of Charms, Defence, Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration, and could also take a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures if he so desired. Figuring '_why not?_', Harry made note that he wished to take those courses on his return owl.

"What are you taking NEWTs in, Potter?" Draco asked. Harry told him, and was rather confused when Draco snorted.

"Red isn't your colour, Potter. Besides, if I were you, the last thing I would want to do is be an Auror. It's going to be something of a letdown, don't you think?"

"How d'you mean?" Harry asked, wondering why Draco was so skeptical of his goal.

"Well, without Voldemort, Dark Wizard catching is going to be rather boring. Just your common criminals, like the pissed off wife who _crucio_s her husband when she catches him in bed with the milkman, or the thief who _imperio_s his target… not going to be much for you to do."

"Well then, what do _you_ think I should want to do with my life?" Harry asked, rather snidely.

"Play Quidditch, of course," Draco replied. "Or have you been too busy ogling your opponents' tits to notice all the professional scouts trying to conceal their hard-ons for you? Ow!" he finished as his mother smacked him with the _Prophet_.

"Come off it," Harry replied. "What professional scouts?"

"Well, before you were grounded last year, I saw scouts from Falmouth, Puddlemere, and even the coach of the English National Team in the stands staring at you slack-jawed."

"Well, the last one I can understand, anybody could play for England and do better than the side they took to the World Cup two years ago."

"Exactly. English Quidditch is an international joke, which is quite sad, considering how good our League sides are."

"So you think I should play professional Quidditch…and then what?"

"What d'you mean, and then what?"

"Well, it's not like I can play forever."

"Of course not. Then, you can work for the Ministry like Bagman or you can work for WWN as a commentator."

Harry was speechless.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"What?" Draco asked. "It's a brilliant idea."

"If you're a Quidditch fanatic and know loads about it," Harry replied. "I don't know squat about Chaser formations and tactics, or Keeping strategies, or all that rubbish."

"How!?" Draco exclaimed. "You've played for 5 years!"

"By knowing that all I have to do is fly around and look for the shiny thing, and zoning out when Wood wasn't talking about me flying around and looking for the shiny thing," Harry said succinctly. Draco stared at him slack-jawed.

"You're unbelievable, Potter," he finally remarked. "Absolutely unbelievable. Have you never even listened to a professional match?"

"No, how could I have?" Harry said. "'S not like I had a wireless on my bedside table."

"Do you bloody Gryffindors not even have one in the common room? How uncivilized are you!?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't remember one time where anybody was listening to Quidditch on wireless in the common room."

"Well, that's changing," Draco remarked. "You're lucky the Prophet prints the week's fixtures in the Sport section, or I'd hex you for keeping me from listening to the Falcons. They're at the Cannons tomorrow, maybe you could invite Weasel over."

"Hm. Maybe," Harry replied, quite absent-mindedly as he looked at the second letter from the Ministry. It was sealed with wax, and had an M imprinted on the seal, and was addressed very specifically to "The Rt. Hon. Lord Harry James Potter, Viscount Potter, Baron Black".

"What's that, then?" Draco asked, once he noticed Harry wasn't paying attention to him. Harry ignored him in favour of opening the letter, lest he remark that it was 'a letter' and call Draco a blind git.

_My Lord Potter,_ the letter began,

_I hope this letter finds you well. I write to you today because I had a most interesting proposition from Auror Scrimgeour yesterday afternoon after my election. We both acknowledge the return of the Dark Lord, but unfortunately are rather stymied in our efforts to combat Him._

_Auror Scrimgeour's suggestion was thus: use you. His proposal was to offer you a position within the Ministry, something along the lines of Special Deputy Minister for Anti-Dark Efforts. His belief was that this position would give you legal legitimacy to conduct the fight you have been fighting for over a year already, and will be continuing with the newly-reformed Scarlet Knights. As he explained it to me, this position would also give you a form of command over the Auror Corps, the Hit Wizards, and the rest of the Ministry's Law Enforcement Department, expanding your resources._

_We both believe you would be the best man for such a position, despite your age, because of the nature of your fight against the Dark Lord. The public already knows you are His Number One Enemy, and look to you to rid us of this murderer. I am aware of your…distrust of the Ministry, and would completely understand if you would reject working with us out of hand._

_I would merely request a meeting with you, my lord, if possible, to discuss Auror Scrimgeour's idea. Please let me know as soon as possible._

_Regards,_

_Amos Diggory_

_Minister for Magic_

"Harry?" Draco asked. "What is that?"

"A letter from the Minister," Harry replied. "He wants to give me a job."

"What?"

"Yeah, exactly. 'Special Deputy Minister for Anti-Dark Efforts'," Harry told him. "Name needs work, I think."

"That's an understatement," Draco replied. "Give me the letter, you've still got to read the Weasel's and the Headmaster's."

"Right," Harry said, handing Draco the Minister's missive and opening Ron's.

_Hey Mate,_

_I was wondering if I could come over to your new place this weekend. Hermione's already been, and I think it's only fair that I get to visit too. Besides, I've got some things to tell you, and I need to see for myself if Malfoy's stopped being a git._

_Send Pig back with your response,_

_Ron_

Chuckling, Harry turned the parchment over and scribbled "Sure, Draco wants to listen to the Falcons/Cannons match on wireless with us tomorrow anyway. Check the _Prophet_ for the time and Floo over about an hour before that, yeah?" on the back before sending Pig on his way, and finally opened Dumbledore's letter.

_Harry,_

_By now I'm sure you have received your OWL results and your letter for next term from Hogwarts. I would ask that you leave some space in your schedule for some special tutoring from myself. Your proposal to me before the Wizengamot meeting was very well thought-out, and I have decided to accept your offer. The lessons I hope to offer you will provide you with some information on the Dark Lord that I have been able to gather, as well as hopefully provide you with some training on how to fight him._

_By the way, I have heard from Miss Granger about your actions towards the Malfoys. Well done, Harry. I am very proud of you, as well as Draco, for burying the hatchet between the two of you. I shall see you on September 1__st__ at Hogwarts._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore_

"Hah, I knew it!" he exclaimed.

"What'd you know?" Draco asked.

"Dumbledore is proud of me for taking you in," Harry told him. "And of you, as well, for 'burying the hatchet' with me."

"Hm," Draco said, rather unconcerned. "What'd he want?"

"Apparently, I'm going to have lessons about how to fight the Dark Lord with him this year," Harry said.

"Oh. Well, that should be useful. I mean, he _did_ defeat Grindelwald, he's bound to know some good spells," Draco said.

"He was rather brilliant at the Ministry against Voldemort too," Harry said. "Of course, they're both as old as the hills…"

"Indeed. What d'you think about that letter from Diggory, by the way?"

"I was thinking it couldn't be too bad to have a meeting with the man," Harry said. "Plus, a couple of the points he made, well, that Scrimgeour made, did kind of make sense."

"I agree. Besides, you already have an office in the Ministry building, and this gives you a reason to use it. Plus, it's a non-hyphenated title for you. Maybe you can get the _Prophet_ to stop calling you the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Maybe I'll meet with him today, then. I think I'll go fire call him. Why don't you read your last letter while I do that?" Harry suggested, indicating the impatient eagle owl that was beginning to get rather cross with Draco, who promptly grabbed its letter and opened it as Harry headed for the parlour.

Lighting a fire, he threw in the Floo powder and stuck his head in, shouting out "Minister of Magic's Office!"

It was a rather disconcerting feeling, Harry decided, having just your head travel through the Floo network. Eventually, he found himself staring at Minister Diggory's office.

"Ah, Harry! What a pleasant surprise!" Amos exclaimed looking up as he heard the fireplace roar to life.

"Good morning, Minister," Harry said. "I'm calling because I received your letter and I wanted to schedule a meeting with you for this afternoon. I have to be at the Ministry anyway and would like to kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes."

"Ah, very good. Yes, I believe we can accommodate that, Harry. I'll see you this afternoon, then," Amos replied.

"See you, Minister," Harry said, pulling his head out of the fireplace and ending the call. He walked back into the office to find a rather ecstatic Draco.

"What now?"

"Pansy's parents terminated out betrothal!" Draco exclaimed. "I don't have to marry that ugly bint!" He was swatted again by Narcissa.

"Oh, come on, mum, she's pugly!"

"While her facial composition is unfortunate, Draco, I did not raise you to have such a foul mouth. Cease it before I _scourgify_ it," Narcissa warned.

"Congratulations, Draco," Harry said. "Just stay away from any of my girl friends and we'll all be kosher."

Draco shuddered. "Urgh, like I'd want to date Weaselette, Granger, or Lovegood. Don't make me throw up, Potter."

Harry glared. "Alright. So. We're going to be going to the Ministry after lunch, first to take care of the paperwork necessary to make your divorce from Lucius official, and then to officially make Draco a Black. After that, you two can hang out in my Wizengamot office while I have a chat with Diggory, and then we go school shopping. Sound good?"

"Sounds bloody fantastic," Draco said. "I haven't been out in weeks."

* * *

_A/N the 2nd: Next chapter will feature Percy, a chat with the Minister, and some Diagon Alley action. It will be out on the 30th, hopefully NOT at night, since next week isn't supposed to be nearly this hectic_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Many apologies to all for the shortness of this chapter, apparently either a) there wasn't as much to deal with here as I was hoping, or b) the pre-finals rush took more of a toll on my writing abilities for this chapter than I anticipated. Of course, not having a computer to write on for five days wasn't much help either. Stupid hard drive anyway. Regardless, here is Chapter 13, such as it is, and while I'm in-between final exams next week, I will work on Chapter 14, which will feature some Ron, some Draco, and a little Ron vs. Draco spat; some Quidditch, and just maybe something about bloodlines. It will arrive at some time on May 10, Central Daylight Time (GMT-6)._

_As always, reviews are appreciated and I continue to be grateful to all those who have alerted, favourited, and/or placed this story in a C2.

* * *

_Arriving in the Ministry Atrium, Harry and the Blacks drew many a stare, which was returned icily by all three in the party. They were waved through security, Harry because he was a Wizengamot Lord, Draco and Narcissa because they were both well-known at the Ministry.

At Narcissa's direction, Harry found himself returning to the Hall of Records and submitting paperwork to formalize Draco's adoption into the House of Black, and Narcissa's divorce from Lucius. The clerk was different from the one Harry had apparently angered, and he accepted the parchments back from Harry with minimal fuss.

They proceeded to the Potter Office of the Wizengamot, and once Harry was certain they would not be bothered he left the office and shut the door, ready to meet with The Right Honourable Amos Diggory, Minister for Magic.

He was met at the elevator by Percy Weasley, dressed impeccably and wearing a neutral expression on his face.

"Lord Potter," Percy replied. "The Minister is just finishing up a meeting with the Ambassador from France, he should be with you momentarily. Can I get you anything?"

"Tea?" Harry asked. "Earl Grey, no milk, no sugar, if you please."

"At once, milord," Percy said, nodding his head and scampering off after a cup of tea, leaving Harry alone in the Minister's outer office. Truth be told, there was not much to it; a few plush armchairs and a sofa along the walls, a desk which Harry presumed was Percy's, and a bunch of sleepy wizarding portraits. Settling into one of the armchairs, he awaited his tea and his turn.

The two arrived roughly at the same time; indeed not thirty seconds passed between Percy's return with a cup of tea for Harry and the opening of the door to the Minister's inner office.

"…yes, Mister Ambassador, you certainly may expect my wife and me at the party next week. Do give Monsieur St.-Pierre my regards," Minister Diggory's voice filtered out, ahead off a short, balding, round-ish Frenchman in elegant robes.

Once the Frenchman was fully out of the doorway, Diggory took note of Harry sitting in his outer office.

"Lord Potter! Please, come in. Terribly sorry about the wait, but I'm sure you know how the French are," Amos explained, as he and Harry shared a grin. As proper Britons, both enjoyed the jokes about the French.

"Well, it seems you are at least going to get something out of listening to him blather on," Harry said, walking into the Minister's office and shutting the door behind him.

"Oh yes, quite a joy, a full night of getting to listen to him blather on," Diggory deadpanned.

"Ah, but you shall have the luxury of alcohol, Minister," Harry reminded him.

"True, very true," Diggory conceded. "But that is neither here nor there, I'm sure you're not here to commiserate with me about my suddenly incredibly hectic life."

"Certainly true," Harry replied, taking a sip of his tea. "I must admit, your owl did come as something of a surprise this morning."

"Rufus' suggestion was equally as surprising to me," Diggory replied. "But his reasoning seemed very sound."

"I am concerned, Minister, as to whether I would have time for such a position," Harry said. "After all, school starts in a little less than three weeks, and I believe it has yet to be determined as to what my role will be with the Judicial Wizengamot. Add into the equation the practicality of commuting routinely between Hogwarts and the Ministry, and I just don't understand how it would work."

Diggory sat back and pondered this problem.

"Well, why not run it from Hogwarts?"

Harry blinked, and nearly dropped his teacup. "Excuse me?"

"You're the Lord of two Ancient Families. I'm sure Dumbledore could be persuaded to allow you private quarters, which we could link to the Floo network," Diggory explained.

"I'm still confused," Harry admitted. "How would you expect me to run affairs of the Ministry from school?"

"I wouldn't," Diggory answered frankly. Before Harry could object and ask what the point was, then, he continued. "You would be consulted and have veto power on all anti-Voldemort operations conducted by the DMLE. But as far as managing the day-to-day operations of the place? We have more than enough bureaucrats already for that, thank you."

"So…you're saying it would be largely ceremonial?" Harry asked, taking a pondering sip from his cup.

"You could say that," Diggory said. "But there are responsibilities attached. Press conferences, for example. You would be expected to meet with the press after your successful operations, and contribute to the planning of those operations."

"I think I'd need one of those bureaucrats," Harry muttered.

"Of course," Diggory said. "You don't think you'd be the only person, do you? No, no, Harry. The Office of the Special Deputy Minister for Security would have plenty of support staff to help you liase with the DMLE. We've already re-activated Senior Auror Moody to serve in that position, and I'm sure it won't be difficult to find a few entry-level flunkies to help you out with the paperwork."

"Decided to change the name, did you?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Well, the term 'Anti-Dark Efforts' was a little too broad and didn't quite meet the point," Diggory replied. "Besides, the Prime Minister didn't understand the term."

"Oh, so you've asked him about this?"

"Of course," Diggory said. "I'd almost swear he and Scrimgeour had discussed it before, as quick as he was to bring it up when I met with him on Monday. First thing he asked when I told him about all the trouble Voldemort was causing was why we don't have a special task force to deal with him and his followers. Then, the next morning, Rufus walks into my office and lays out his plan for exactly that, save for the stupid name."

"Huh," Harry said, interested. "You said you'd already got Mad-Eye in on this?"

"Mmhm," Diggory remarked. "I signed the activation order myself. The Auror that took it to him came back shaking in his boots, saying he'd never seen someone more enthusiastic about fighting Death Eaters."

"That's Moody for you," Harry replied. "Ever the warrior."

"Truth is, I wouldn't have had to re-activate him if it hadn't been for Fudge. You know how paranoid that man was, and Moody scared the faerie lights out of him. So one fixed mental evaluation later, and he's taking early retirement," Diggory told him. "All for the better that useless sod is out of this office."

"Amen," Harry said, finishing off his tea. "Well, how about we do this, Minister. I go ahead and take the job. You finish setting everything up, and we have a press conference sometime next week to make it all nice and official. We give it a try for a month or two, and if it's not working out that great, you go ahead and make my part of it fully ceremonial while Mad-Eye does all the real work."

"That sounds like a plan," Diggory replied. "I'll get it set up and let you know, Lord Potter."

"I look forward to it, Minister. Any reason to dress up, of course," Harry said, attempting to be cheerful but coming off more as sarcastic thanks to his scowl. Diggory chuckled.

"Of course, of course. I assume you'll be off to Diagon Alley with your wards, then?"

"School supplies don't buy themselves," Harry confirmed.

"Very well. I don't suppose I could talk you into accepting an Auror bodyguard for your trip?"

"I should think not," Harry replied. "Glamour charms and hooded cloaks should be sufficient to avoid unwanted attention, and my … wards … have protection beyond anything your Aurors can provide."

"Alright. I shall owl you when the arrangements are made."

"I look forward to it, Minister," Harry said. Without another word, the Special Deputy Minister for Security-designate rose and left the room, nodding curtly to Percy and returning to his Wizengamot office to collect Draco and Narcissa, who were quick to pepper him with questions about his meeting.

"Another week," Harry informed them. "There will be a press conference, and I will be announced as Special Deputy Minister for Security. Diggory's reactivated Moody to help me with planning, and a few bureaucrats so that I can still run the office from school. He also encouraged me to request private quarters from Dumbledore."

"So the Ministry is turning you and Mad-Eye Moody loose on the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters?" Draco said, with a smirk. "Well, sounds to me like the issue will be over by September."

"Prat," Harry replied. "How many Death Eaters are there, anyway?"

"Not many," Draco replied. "Thirty or so. The biggest problem will be getting them out in the open. Most of them are from Old Families, and if they can just sit in their manors, they're safe from damn near anything."

"Well then, we'd just have to get invited in," Harry said. "Or hire some wardbreakers."

"It would take forever," Draco replied. "Some of those wards have been extant since the 1200s."

"I'm resourceful, Draco," Harry replied. "We'll find a way around them. Now, let's go buy things."

As a group, they stood and walked back to the Floo connections in the Atrium. Stepping into the Floo, Harry and the Blacks made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, then inconspicuously made their way to Gringotts Bank. After obtaining more than enough Galleons to finance a shopping trip through the Alley, the small group applied glamour charms. Harry and Draco changed in appearance to appear to be brunet siblings, with Narcissa's glamour designed to make her look like both boys' mother. As such, Harry handed off the sack of gold to her.

Their first visit was to the bookshop. After buying NEWT books for Transfiguration, Charms, Defence, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic (for Draco) and Care of Magical Creatures (for Harry), they selected additional books in Dueling, Law, Etiquette and one additional book on Wizarding history that Draco told Harry he'd been given at the age of ten and had memorized before he came to Hogwarts, dealing with the history of the Pureblood families.

"It'll tell you a little bit about the world you're stepping into in the Wizengamot: some of the alliances between the families, which ones you should really try not to anger, that sort of stuff," he explained. Harry nodded his assent, the books were purchased, and the group made their way to Madam Malkin's. Draco felt that he needed a new wardrobe (something Narcissa confided in a whisper to Harry that Draco did every year), and Madam Malkin was more than happy to accommodate him.

Harry, for his part, spent Draco's time fussing over his wardrobe leafing through the introduction of the pureblood politics book. He was intrigued most, actually, by the listed authors: George Potter and Rigel Black, published in 1900. Harry noted that Draco may not have read the introduction, since it made numerous reference to muggleborn witches and wizards in a positive fashion, and actually made specific note that the book was intended to convey basic information about the Wizarding world's socio-political structure to Muggleborns.

Deciding the book would indeed be an essential read for that evening, he shut it when Narcissa announced they were ready to leave. Slipping it back into his bag, the group proceeded to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where both boys bought Broomstick Servicing Kits, and Draco almost snidely slipped in a book on Quidditch strategy. Despite a glare from Harry, the purchase was made and the group proceeded to Slug and Jigger's for additional potions ingredients.

Draco handled this transaction, with Harry's consent, as the other boy was far better at Potions than Harry had even half a hope of being. Draco, still with a half-full moneybag, proceeded to buy several additional (and not inexpensive) ingredients on top of the standard Hogwarts supply kits.

Finally, Harry led the other two back into the Leaky Cauldron, with a longing look down the Alley towards Cooper and Curry's. He hoped very much that his case against the _Prophet_ was nearly complete.

Once all three were returned to Potter Manor, Draco insisted on dragging Harry throughout the house to find a wireless for the match the next day. Nevermind that Harry reminded Draco repeatedly that the elves knew much more about the Manor than he did, and he could just ask one of them. Draco wanted, apparently, an excuse to look through every room in the house.

"Draco, I swear we've already found three rooms with wireless sets in them, will you bloody _stop_ already?" Harry asked an hour later, digging in his heels to try and slow the blond down.

"They're not appropriate," Draco replied simply, tugging on Harry's arm harder.

"What's wrong with them?" Harry asked in confusion, finally pulling back against Draco and stopping him.

"They're too big and the view is atrocious," Draco replied.

"This is getting ridiculous," Harry said. "We've been throughout more than half the house and it's nearly dinnertime."

"But Harry," Draco whined, "this isn't how you entertain guests!"

"Damnit, Draco, it's not like this is a formal ball or anything, it's a matchday listening party; a few blokes hanging out around the telly – or wireless, in our case – with beer, and pizza, and chicken wings screaming in celebration or frustration while cursing the ref!" Harry said.

Draco looked at him in astonishment.

"What?" Harry asked. "Uncle Vernon and Dudley spent Saturdays and Sundays watching rugby league and football."

"Your muggleness astounds me," Draco stated simply, latching onto Harry's arm once more.

"For Merlin's sake!" Harry announced, once more wrenching his arm free of Draco's grasp. "Just have an elf move a wireless into a 'cozy' sitting room and tell you where it is!"

"Where's your sense of adventure, Potter?" Draco asked.

"I've already been all over the house," Harry reminded him. "In fact, if you'd just let me take the lead an hour ago, I could have directed you to a small room in the back of the second floor that overlooks the back gardens and is small enough for me, you, and Ron."

"Oh." Draco said, deflating a bit.

"Want me to show you?" Harry asked, offering his arm to Draco, who took it. Harry, with a vindictive grin on his face, tore off down the hall, dragging Draco along behind him. It took him five minutes to navigate them to a point where he could remember how to get to the second floor, but from there it was simple. Two minutes later, Harry was pulling a flustered Draco into a small room with a couch and two cushy armchairs, with large windows looking out over a large garden, and in the corner…

"A wireless," Harry pointed out. "You can tune it to the right frequency to get the match you want, I presume?"

"Which one of us has been doing this for years, again?" Draco retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Harry wisely chose not to comment further, except to drag Draco back downstairs for dinner. Tomorrow promised to be eventful. He would have to spend some time tomorrow morning with both the _Prophet_ and the Quidditch strategy book, lest Ron and Draco embarrass him.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, at about half-past ten, Harry heard the sound of the Floo in the parlour flare up, followed by his father's loud voice announcing "HARRY! A GINGER JUST POPPED OUT OF THE FIREPLACE!"

"Oi!" Ron's annoyed voice rang out in response. "Just who the bloody hell d'you think you are?"

"He's Dad, Ron, calm down," Harry said, walking into the room to see his best mate pointing his wand at his parents' portrait. "He's just taking the mickey out of you, right Dad?" This statement was punctuated with a sharp glare.

"Er, right. Taking the mickey, right," James replied sheepishly, earning him a snort from Lily.

Ron was not amused.

"Oh, lighten up, Ron. You're more ginger than Crookshanks, you know it, and you know some prats are going to point it out loudly. C'mon, let me show you around a bit before we collect Draco and head to the party room."

"Party room?" Ron asked, looking confused after being briefly irate at the casual mention of Draco.

"Yeah. Like the Muggles do on football matchdays. The elves are making up some refreshments for us to eat while we listen to the match."

"You're weird, Harry," Ron answered, which made Harry briefly wonder if wizards had ever heard of the concepts of a concession stand or food vendors at sporting events.

Shaking his head in wonder, Harry began showing Ron various things about the first floor of the Manor, before directing up the central staircase and knocking on Draco's room (skipping past the Library, since Harry figured Ron cared nothing for books).

"Is it time, Harry?" Draco asked, pulling open the door. "Hello, Weasel."

"Ferret," Ron replied, taking in with distaste Malfoy's Falmouth Falcons apparel.

"Ready for your side to get crushed again?" Draco asked Ron with a sneer. "Bottom of the league yet again, what a surprise."

"We can't all be the bloody Harpies," Ron shot back. "Besides, your beloved Falcons got trounced last week by the Caterpillars, of all people. You lost to the WELSH!"

"Shut up, Weasel!" Draco hissed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I do!" Ron said cheerfully, a wide grin on his face. "330 to 60? And your Seeker didn't even notice Caerphilly's Seeker going after and catching the Snitch! He was … remind me again, wasn't he making googly eyes at one of the substitute Chasers?"

"Shut. Up. Weasel," Draco hissed.

"Ron," Harry began, before he too started grinning. "Googly eyes at a reserve Chaser?"

"Yeah!" Ron said, excited. "And the best part was, all their reserve Chasers are blokes!"

Both Gryffindor boys cracked up at that, laughing at the poor Falcons Seeker for a solid minute and a half before being punched by Draco.

"It's _not funny_," he insisted, looking very disappointed in Harry and Ron, who both continued to grin.

"It's hilarious!" Ron insisted. "He got his team embarrassed because he was trying to get in one of his teammates' pants! One of his male teammates!"

"You think it's so funny, Weasel, you try it!" Draco said, whipping his wand out and silently hexing Ron.

"What the hell did you do, you arsehole!?" Ron shouted at Draco, before he gasped.

"Oh…Harry…" Ron breathed, turning his gaze to Harry, who was all of a sudden terrified.

"Erm…Draco, what _did_ you do?" Harry asked, hands extended in an attempt to fend off Ron, who was now advancing on him with a crazy look in his eyes.

"I told you I was going to get you laid, didn't I?" Draco asked. "Here you go, one Weasel, absolutely dying for you to sex him up."

"That's not funny, Draco!" Harry said. "Do you want me to have nightmares?" Ron was inching ever closer, puckering up his lips and trying to kiss Harry, who was doing his best to avoid this.

"No, I want you and Weasel to apologise for making fun of Youngblood," Draco replied. "It's not his fault that he's gay and that d'Arcy is sex on legs."

"OK, OK, we'll apologise!" Harry said. "Just end the spell!"

"How can you be sure Weasel will apologise and not hex me back?" Draco asked, with a grin as Ron continued to try to kiss Harry, who was now pinned against the wall.

"I'll put him under the Imperius if I have to!" Harry insisted. "Just get him off me!"

"Fine, fine, ruin my fun," Draco muttered, canceling the spell and laughing as Ron fell into the wall.

"You've made your point, Draco. I'm sorry for making fun of your Seeker," Harry said, restraining Ron from going for his wand to hex Draco. "Ron, apologise."

"But he tried to make me snog you!" Ron exclaimed. "You're just gonna let that go?"

"Of course not, Ron," Harry replied. "But the revenge will be more epic if it happens later."

"Oh," said Ron. Harry knew his friend was impatient, but hopefully he had picked up at least something from Fred and George.

"Come on, both of you," Harry said, looking sharply at Ron and Draco. He led them to the room he had shown Draco the night before, and indicated to Draco that he should go tune in to the wireless broadcast.

Moments later, the wireless clicked on and they were greeted by a cheery wizard's voice (which reminded Harry of Ludo Bagman) welcoming them to the match between "_the Chudley Cannons at the bottom of the league, against the visiting mid-table Falmouth Falcons who are coming off an embarrassing and mind-boggling loss to Caerphilly at home last week."_

Ron sniggered again, and Draco shot him a glare.

"_Of course, the biggest news surrounding this match is the new Seeker for Falmouth – Frederick Grey gets the start this week after Rodney Youngblood's pitiful performance last week. Other tweaks to the Falcons lineup include Jean-Paul d'Arcy starting at weak-side Chaser after a training injury to centre-Chaser Gareth Pike and Falmouth Manager Nigel White shifting starting weak-side Chaser Keaton Flitney to centre-Chaser. Strong-side Chaser for the Falcons will remain Wil Fleitch, Beaters are Heartley Rodgers and Guyton Greer, and Keeper is the Bolivian international Raul Gonsalez_," the announcer continued. "_We'll have the line-up for the Cannons right after this break_."

"OK, so explain to me what this means," Harry said.

"It means they're screwed!" Ron crowed joyously. "d'Arcy has only played in three League games since Falmouth bought him from Quiberon last summer during the Cup. Pike led their attack, and I don't know what White was thinking, shifting Flitney to centre-Chaser. He's adequate at best in centre, so Fleitch is going to have to try and lead the team," he explained. "Grey graduated from Hogwarts the year before we got there - Hufflepuff - he's been a career reserve. Only started a couple games for the Falcons, but I think that change is just because the people would be calling for White's head if he let Youngblood play this week."

"Don't be so sure, Weasel," Draco replied. "d'Arcy may not have much League experience, but he's still a strong weak-side Chaser. Flitney only plays weak-side because Pike is so damn good in centre, but he'll be more than 'adequate' while Pike recovers from whatever's wrong with him. Hufflepuff came in just behind Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup in Grey's seventh year. Besides, Rodgers and Greer are the two best Beaters in the League. They should be more than enough to keep your rag-tag band out of goal."

Then the commercials ended and the announcer came back on. "_Chudley's starting seven are Dragomir Gorgovitch, the veteran Lithuanian international, Jacob Edleman and Petr Hlak as Chasers: Gorgovitch in centre, Edleman on weak-side, and the Czech international Hlak in his first season in the League on the strong-side. Beaters are Joey Jenkins and Michael Masters, the German international Heinz Kreiner is Keeping, and Cannons mainstay Galvin Gudgeon will compete with Freddy Grey for the Snitch at Seeker. Manager Ragmar Dorkins doesn't seem keen to make any changes to his line-up, surprising considering the closest they've come to victory this season was their match two weeks ago against Wigtown, which they only lost by 160._"

Draco looked offended. "You were within a goal of _Wigtown_!? What the hell, Weasel?"

Ron looked smug.

"Did they test for potions? Were you playing their reserve squad? How the _hell_!?"

"Yes, they did; no, we weren't, and we're not that bad this year!" Ron said.

"More likely Wigtown's simply gone to pot," Draco said, and Harry didn't say a word.

"Shut up, Ferret."

"Guys, seriously," Harry said. "Behave." Sharp looks were exchanged between all three boys as the house-elves popped in with snacks. It had taken him some time, but once he'd explained pizza bagels, mini-burgers, nachos and salsa to his elves, they were remarkably good at producing them. The drinks could use some work, though. Apparently elves could only get butterbeer, though Harry really wanted to expose his pureblood friends to Coca-Cola and Pepsi.

"What in bloody hell is all this stuff?" Draco asked.

"Food," Harry informed them simply, grabbing a pepperoni pizza bagel and taking a large bite. Taking the time to chew and swallow (as he wasn't sure Draco shared Ron's ability to understand Mouthful), he explained.

"What I just had was a pizza bagel. They're basically bagels, you know what bagels are, cut in half and with each half adding tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, and some type of meat. These are pepperoni, because that's my favourite. We've also got miniature cheeseburgers, and that big tray with the bowl in the centre has the nachos and salsa."

"And Muggles eat this during sporting events?" Draco asked. Harry nodded, and Draco looked disgusted. "I'll probably gain 30 pounds just by looking at it."

"Draco, you're an idiot," Harry said, taking another bite of the bagel. "Ron, have a burger." Ron, not being the type to refuse food outright, tentatively reached forward and grabbed a mini-burger off the stack, popping it in his mouth. Harry resisted the urge to grin as his friend's eyes lit up.

"OHMYGODTHESEARESOGOOD!" the red-head exclaimed, interestingly enough turning Draco even further off the strange looking food, though he did take a butterbeer.

"Oh go on, Draco, at least try something," Harry encouraged, tossing him a nacho. "Don't be a mood-killer."

Harry's attempt to get Draco to at the very least nibble the food was interrupted by the announcer.

"_And the referee has released the bludgers and the snitch…the Captains have done the traditional handshake and we are ready to begin. Both sides in the air now, and there goes the Quaffle! We are underway here in Chudley, with the Falcons seizing the first possession. It's Flitney with the Quaffle, to Fleitch, back to Flitney, nifty bit of flying there to avoid the foul from Edleman…d'Arcy is in the scoring area, takes the pass from Flitney and puts it past Kreiner to make it 10-nil Falmouth early._"

Ron swore, Draco looked smug.

"_Edleman retrieves the Quaffle and quickly passes it to Hlak, who goes tearing off up the pitch towards the Falcons' hoops…a quick pass to Gorgovitch before a nasty bludger to the gut knocks the wind out of him. It's Gorgovitch attacking with Edleman in support, and a well-executed Woollongong Shimmy followed by a reverse pass has Edleman taking the shot against the Falmouth weak-side hoop, but Keeper Gonsalez makes the save and it's back to Fleitch for Falmouth._"

The match proceeded in this vein for a couple of hours, and Draco had been so excited about his Falcons going up 60-10 that he'd eaten the nacho he'd been thrown before the start of the match, and had promptly snatched the tray up and begun to scarf them down. Ron had been incensed when Falmouth had been awarded a penalty for a Transylvanian Tackle by Hlak, who had been called for blatching despite the announcer's pronouncements that no contact had been made between Hlak and Flitney. Falmouth had converted the penalty and gone up 130-50, appearing to have the game well in hand. As consolation, Harry gave Ron more mini-burgers.

It wasn't until the game's third hour, with Falmouth ahead 290-140, that the match began to get interesting for Harry.

"_Chudley in a Hawkshead formation, Hlak with the Quaffle and Edleman and Gorgovitch in support…dodge a bludger from Greer, wait one moment, it seems something is going on with Gudgeon and Grey!_"

Harry perked up at the mention of the two Seekers. Perhaps they'd seen the Snitch, though it seemed odd that Gudgeon would even make an attempt on it now, with his team down by 150. What even happened in Quidditch in the event of a draw? Would they take penalties?

"_Grey diving, Gudgeon in pursuit and gaining. Hlak continuing to press against the Falmouth defence and trying to score a goal. If their Chasers can convert, Gudgeon can win this one right here, right now!_" Draco looked disgusted at the prospect.

"_We can see the Snitch, thanks to our Omnioculars…Grey has his hand outstretched, he's closing in…will he seal the match for Falmouth here? No! I don't believe it, a bludger comes in from…from I don't even know where and knocks him off course! Gudgeon avoids the collision, closes in and he's got the Snitch! Unbelievable! And…yes, the referee is signaling that Hlak did indeed convert his goal before the Snitch was caught! Chudley wins, 300-290, and the fans here are going crazy!_"

The description was apt in the Back Parlour at Potter Manor as well. Ron Weasley was jumping up and down on the sofa he had occupied, screaming his ginger head off in celebration, while Draco Black sat stunned and slack-jawed at the manner of Falmouth's second consecutive defeat.

"_A truly spectacular finish here at Chudley! The Cannons take their first match of the season and three points, which puts them ahead of still-winless Montrose in the British and Irish Quidditch League. With this defeat, Falmouth stays level at six points, putting them into a three-way tie at fourth with Kenmare and Tutshill, who still have yet to complete their matches this week. Currently Kenmare leads Montrose 300-90 and Tutshill is ahead of seventh-place Pride of Portree 230-100. In other action around the league, Caerphilly has fallen at Puddlemere 400-230; Wimbourne lost a quick match at home against Appleby 200-20, with the two sides only on the pitch for an hour; Ballycastle is leading Wigtown 70-40, and the league-leading Harpies are off this week. Next for the Cannons is an away match against Kenmare, scheduled to start at noon next Saturday, while the Falcons have their European Cup first leg match against Heidelberg at home on Wednesday, scheduled start for that match is seven o'clock. For now, that's all for the British and Irish Quidditch League on WWN, good-bye from Chudley._"

Draco sullenly turned off the wireless, while Ron continued to celebrate by whooping in joy in between mini-burgers.

"Potter, get me away from this hooligan," he said, affronted. "I'm going to hex him again if I don't get away from him."

"You can just go to your room, you know," Harry said. "It's not like he knows where it is."

"But it's only three-thirty," Draco complained.

"And I haven't spent any serious amount of time with Ron since school let out. Go read a book or something and let me have some time with my best mate," Harry said, causing Draco to stomp off. Once the door to the parlour slammed shut, Ron quieted down.

"Finally, I thought he'd never leave!"

"How long were you acting?"

"Eh, better part of five minutes," Ron replied, now munching on a pizza bagel. "I mean, it _is_ Ma- er…Black's team. Why can't I call him Malfoy anymore?"

"Cos he's not a Malfoy anymore. Lucius officially threw him out of the family, off the tree, disowned, the whole nine yards. Made him a no-name for about a minute," Harry said, and Ron sobered up.

"That's…harsh," he said, pale. "Damn, I always knew Lucius Malfoy was a bastard, but even Sirius' mum let him keep his last name!"

"I know, right?" Harry said. "So, how about that Quidditch match?"

"I think we were right to apologise for making fun of that ponce Youngblood," Ron said. "He's a way better Seeker than Grey. Not to take anything away from Gudgeon, cos that was a brilliant end to the match, but there's no way Youngblood doesn't get that Snitch."

"If you say so," Harry replied. "Y'know, I think McGonagall made a huge mistake in naming me Quidditch Captain."

"Oh, it's you?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. Draco got it for Slytherin. I don't know a damn thing about Quidditch strategy, not nearly as much as you do. I remember the five a.m. harangues from Ollie Wood about our strategies and tactics, compared to him I'll look like a fucking first-year. 'Chasers, fly around with the Quaffle, don't get hit by Bludgers, and score. Beaters, hit the Bludgers at the bad guys. Keeper, chill out by the rings and don't let people score, and I'll fly around and look for the shiny thing. Team on three.'"

"Seriously?" Ron asked. "How can you have been around Ollie for three years and me for five without picking up anything about Quidditch?"

"I honestly don't know," Harry replied. "Y'know…would you be too terribly opposed to being a sort of vice-captain and handling the strategy bits?" he asked.

"Seriously? You still want me on your team?"

"You're an alright Keeper when your head's screwed on right, why not?" Harry asked in return. "Besides, I don't think I'd trust anybody else with buying me the time I need to accomplish my mission. That's what best mates are for, right?" Harry grinned as he asked this last question, which led Ron to call him a prat.

"Yeah, sure, I guess," Ron eventually replied. "Vice-Captain is better than nothing, after all. Maybe you can talk Professor McGonagall into giving me a shiny badge too?"

"You already have a shiny badge, Prefect Ronniekins!" Harry exclaimed. "You can't have TWO, that's not fair!"

Ron pouted for a moment before both boys dissolved into laughter again.

"Hey, how's things going at Headquarters?" Harry asked once they were composed again.

"Alright. It's hard to find people around to help me practice swordfighting, especially with Hermione in the Library from dawn to dusk, but I'm making do. Mad-Eye found this old suit of armour and taught me how to animate it so I can practice against that."

"I bet it's easier than I'm having it," Harry replied. "I have the privilege of being trained by Mister Expert Swordsman Draco Black himself. He kicks my ass every time."

"We should gang up on him," Ron suggested. "See how well he can do against two at once."

"That could be fun," Harry agreed. "Let's go get him and find out."

With that, both boys left the back parlour in search of a teed-off Draco Black, resident prat-in-chief.

* * *

_A/N: So, that wasn't nearly as hard to write as I expected. I'm reminded of Ron's line from the first movie: Quidditch is great! At any rate, next chapter will feature a big meeting and loads of post-nomial letters. See you on 20 May, don't forget to review!_


	15. Chapter 15

The week after Ron's visit to Potter Manor saw a renewed intensity in Draco's practice fights with Harry. Indeed, Harry was once again comparing Draco to Snape by Wednesday morning's session, which was interrupted by a pair of owls that were nearly killed by one of Draco's slashes.

"Why are you so bloody popular all of a sudden?" Draco said with a glare as Harry accepted the envelopes.

"Oh sod off. Don't you have a Quidditch game about to start to listen to?" Harry asked, reminding Draco of Falmouth's European Cup match. Swearing, the blond dropped his sword and ran from the room.

The first bore the Ministry seal, and turned out to be a note from Minister Diggory informing Harry that the press conference announcing the creation of the Office of the Special Deputy Minister for Security and his appointment to the position was set up for Friday morning at 10 A.M. in the Ministry Press Room. The second caught Harry's eye because of the style of address on the envelope.

_The Rt. Hon. Sir H.J. Potter, The Viscount Potter, The Baron Black, KCSK_

_Potter Manor, Shropshire_

The emblem on the wax seal was that of the Queen herself, so Harry very cautiously opened the letter.

_My Lord Potter,_ it began

_Pursuant to our conversation of 5 August, I have reviewed numerous documents and precedents regarding the Government of the witches and wizards of the United Kingdom in conjunction with members of my household staff as well as the Prime Minister. Consequently, I seek a second meeting with you and any advisor you may deem necessary this afternoon (14 August) to discuss the conclusions I have come to and a possible solution. Should this meeting-time be inconvenient for you, simply contact Jacob so that we may reschedule._

_Regards,_

_Elizabeth II_

_By the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and of Her other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith._

The letter was hastily re-folded as Harry dashed downstairs to the Floo, shouting his destination as he jumped into the fire.

He emerged from the fireplace in Number 12 with a great crash and clatter, once again drawing the attention of everyone in the house.

"Harry? What's going on?" Ron asked, running into the room.

"No time. Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, though already suspecting the answer.

"Library of course, why?" Ron asked, but Harry didn't answer as he was off and running again as soon as he heard the word 'library'.

"Hermione! Hermione!" he shouted, running through the door, it seemed.

"Harry? Why the devil are you making so much noise?" Hermione asked, standing up from where she had been poring over books and documents.

"No time," Harry insisted. "Grab your notes on everything you've been looking up for me. Do you have any dresses or anything like that here?"

"Harry, what are you on about?"

"Meeting with Her Majesty this afternoon to talk about everything. She said I could bring an advisor, so we need to get you looking presentable."

"I-what? Harry!" Hermione asked, confused as to why an out-of-breath, sweaty Harry Potter was muttering about dragging her in front of the Queen.

"Damnit, Hermione, listen!" Harry said, taking a moment to catch his breath. "I got a letter from Her Majesty this morning. She says she's completed her research into our Government and thinks she's found a solution. She wants to meet with me, and said I could bring an advisor. Since you're the person who's been doing this research for me, you're my advisor and you're coming with. Do you have any formal clothes you can put on quickly?"

"Er," Hermione said. "All I've really got is my school uniform blouses and skirts."

"They'll do," Harry said. "I can transfigure you a jacket or petticoat or whatever it is. C'mon, grab all your notes, we've got to hurry."

"Well, shouldn't you be changing too?" Hermione asked. "After all, I don't think Her Majesty would very much approve of you walking about the palace in short-shorts and a sweat-drenched Beatles T-shirt. For that matter, shouldn't you shower first?"

"Semantics, Hermione!" Harry insisted. "Go on, grab your stuff. You can change at the Manor, while I'm in the shower."

"If you say so, Harry," Hermione finally assented, pushing her way past him and out of the library, running up the stairs with what had to be several notebooks in her arms. When Harry exited after her, Ron was waiting with a bewildered expression on his face.

"I'm going to assume this has something to do with you two's big research project," he said. Harry nodded.

"She wants to meet with us this afternoon. Of course, she didn't specify a time this afternoon, so I'm treating it as an ASAP request. After all, she _is_ the Queen."

"Of course," Ron said. "Though maybe you could have offered a little warning before you came barreling through the Floo like a rampaging bull?"

Harry shot Ron a look.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, no time. Nice outfit. What the devil have you been doing?"

"Training," Harry replied, as Hermione came back down the stairs. "Sorry mate, gotta be off now. I should have her back before she turns into a pumpkin." Ignoring the perplexed look on Ron's face, he whisked Hermione off and through the Floo.

Upon their arrival at Potter Manor, Harry was quick to pull Hermione up the stairs and into his suite, directing her to change clothes and wait for him while he made for the bathroom. She did so only after placing a secure locking charm on the door, lest any uninvited Slytherins walk in while she was down to her underwear. By the time she had completed the transformation from bored-student-on-summer-break to serious scholar (complete with her hair done up in a bun, McGonagall-style), the water in the bathroom had shut off and Harry Potter was walking back into his bedroom, completely starkers save for a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist.

"That looks brilliant, Hermione," he said as soon as he saw her, and the compliment from the practically naked (and not-bad-looking-at-all-really) boy made Hermione blush as she turned away, not wanting to look at him completely naked. She heard him chuckle at this, which deepened the reddening of her face. She heard the rustling of fabric behind her, but waited for permission to turn around again.

It came, five minutes later, and Hermione's jaw dropped at the sight of Harry Potter in what had to be Savile Row clothing – a dark suit with a Gryffindor red and gold tie – and his sword still strapped around his waist. Her astonishment elicited another laugh from him.

"Well, that's one goal accomplished. Draco will be ever-so-pleased that I can at the very least impress women, even if shagging them seems to be beyond my reach at the moment. Shall we go?" he asked, walking over to her and offering his arm to escort her back downstairs. "Got your notes and everything?"

"Erm, you did make mention of a jacket for me?" Hermione asked, tentatively. Harry stopped, quickly drew his wand and summoned an object from his desk that transformed mid-flight into a jacket that would fit Hermione perfectly.

"Most impressive. What did you score on your Transfiguration OWL?" she asked, putting the garment on.

"Exceeds Expectations, why?" Harry asked. "It's not like that's hard to do," he commented. Hermione chose not to tell him that she had scored an O and couldn't do that kind of spellwork. Though she had seen James Potter's OWL and NEWT scores, and knew that Harry's father had been excellent at Transfiguration. Perhaps it was an affinity Harry had inherited, she mused as the two walked back down to the parlour and the Floo.

She would admit to feeling a rush of adrenaline as Harry stepped them into the green flames and yelled out for the system to take them to "BUCKINGHAM PALACE!"

The pair were met once again by Jacob, who led them to where the Queen wished to meet them. To Harry's astonishment, he and Hermione were not the only ones who would be meeting Her Majesty, he saw Minister Diggory, Percy Weasley, a man Harry did not recognize, and…

"Harry, why didn't you _tell _me the Prime Minister was going to be here!" Hermione hissed in his ear.

"I had no idea!" he replied.

"Good Afternoon, your majesty," Harry said as he and Hermione walked closer to the group and the two chairs waiting there for them. "Minister, Prime Minister, Percy…and, who are you?" he asked the last man.

"Sir Jacob Finch-Fletchey, MP," the man said, rising and offering Harry his hand. "You're classmates with my son Justin, milord."

"It's an honour to meet you, Sir Jacob," Harry replied, accepting and shaking the offered hand. "Might I introduce Hermione Granger? A close friend of mine, she is also in class with Justin and I and my advisor for the day."

"A pleasure," Mr. Finch-Fletchey remarked, kissing Hermione's hand – much to the younger girl's embarrassment. Introductions complete, Harry and Hermione took their seats.

"Well then, now that we all know one another, perhaps we can get down to business?" the Queen asked, and was answered by nods from all assembled.

"Excellent. Now, after meeting with Lord Potter in the afternoon and evening following your election, Minister Diggory, the both of us determined that the Ministry you head that governs the magical subjects of this nation is in dire need of reform. As a result, he and I have been searching through records with assistance from in my case, a dedicated research staff, and in his case I am assuming most of the research has been done by the young lady sitting beside him," she began. Hermione's slight flush provided her answer, and she continued with a knowing smile.

"Surprisingly, last week during my weekly conversation with the Prime Minister, he mentioned to me a concern that had been brought up to him by one of his backbench MPs, Sir Jacob, about much the same situation which the Lord Potter and I had discussed earlier. The day after that conversation, one of my researchers came to me with evidence of an interesting precedent, one that I believe can be used to great effect and with great speed to resolve a great many of the issues in my Magical government. I propose to you, gentlemen and lady, that a Magical Privy Council be created and used in the short-term to enact sweeping reforms of the Magical Government by the use of Orders-in-Council, and in the long term as an advisory board to both keep the Crown abreast of developing issues within the Wizarding community in the United Kingdom and make simpler the processes in place that allow the Crown to do its duty to the Wizarding world."

There was stunned silence around the circle. Hermione was furiously pouring over her notes for the reference the Queen had just referred to.

"Would you be referring to the Wizards' Council, your majesty?" she asked, finally finding something in her notes.

"That's it, yes," the Queen replied.

"But I thought that was abolished when the Ministry was formed in the early 1600s and was replaced by the Wizengamot."

"No, not quite," the Queen corrected. "The Wizards' Council performed much the same functions as a Privy Council, and was supplanted by the Ministry much in the same fashion my own Privy Council has virtually no power after Cromwell's Interregnum solidified Parliament's sole authority to make Laws within the United Kingdom."

"Oh," Hermione said. "So basically, we would be adding a layer of government above the Ministry?"

"Not quite," said Percy. "As I understand the proposal, the Privy Council would be on the same level as the Office of the Minister, with the same sort of authority."

"Quite correct, Mister Weasley," the Queen said. "Now, the reason you are all here to listen to this new idea is not to critique it or offer suggestions. I have decided that this will be the best way to go about fixing what is broken in the Ministry of Magic and to exert my proper power in the Wizarding world. No, you are here because you are going to comprise the Council. The Prime Minister, of course, is already a Privy Counsellor, so we shall simply have to admit the rest of you – yes, even you, Miss Granger," she stated, before Hermione could even get a word in edgewise.

"I have already prepared the seals of office for you, and I will now leave the Prime Minister to administer the Oath to each of you."

Twenty-five minutes later, Sir Jacob Finch-Fletchey, Percy Weasley, Hermione Granger, Amos Diggory and Harry all had silently updated their forms of address in their heads to add the letters PC after their name to signify that they were now Privy Counsellors. Harry did so with a grimace, as his name was now 75 characters long, and he knew it would get even longer, as he was only 16 and still had a great deal more he could accomplish in life.

"Well, now that we are all sworn in, may I suggest that the Privy Council first consider the matter of the Security of the Wizarding World from its internal rebellion?" the Queen asked.

"If I may, your Majesty?" Minister Diggory asked. Upon receiving a nod from the Queen, he continued "the Ministry of Magic has already considered this matter. As Lord Potter is aware, my Government plans to name him on Friday as Special Deputy Minister for Security, to head a dedicated office of law-enforcement officials which will be charged with the capturing or killing of those who support the Dark Lord."

"Is this true, Lord Potter?" the Queen asked, turning her gaze to Harry.

"Yes ma'am," Harry replied. "In fact, I received Minister Diggory's notice of the date at the same time I received your summons this morning. We had discussed the idea between the two of us last Friday."

"How do you intend to make the office work?" Sir Jacob asked.

"I have access to two sources with knowledge of the identities of some of the Dark Lord's minions," Harry replied. "As well as personal knowledge and encounters with several. With the Ministry's forces in support, I intend to arrest as many as I can as quickly as I can, and charge the lot of them with Treason against the Crown amongst other things."

"What of those already imprisoned?" the Prime Minister asked. "As I understand the situation from my briefings with Minister Diggory and his predecessor, several of the Dark Lord's so-called Inner Circle were convicted of minor crimes earlier this summer and locked in your wizarding prison."

"I have reason to believe at least one of these supporters may have recently escaped or been broken out of Azkaban," Harry answered. "Since Lucius Malfoy was able to disown his son and divorce his wife on Friday, something that I understand can only be done from the Family Manor."

"Minister?" asked the Queen.

"Lord Potter is, unfortunately, correct. All seven of the Death Eaters that were captured at the Ministry in June were broken out last week. We have what you would call a 'shoot-on-sight' order out for them," Amos replied.

"Is that entirely necessary?" Sir Jacob asked.

"Definitely," Hermione answered. "One of those who escaped nearly killed me during the Ministry attack. They are exceptionally vicious and think nothing of hurling the darkest of curses at innocent people for the most stupid of reasons."

"Then how do you plan to arrest them?" the Prime Minister asked Harry, who shrugged.

"Knock on their door, tell them they're under arrest, and if they choose to try and curse me, seal 'em in their house and burn the damn thing down," he answered. He had a feeling that while Mad-Eye Moody may have appreciated that answer, the rest of those around the room didn't seem to, though Sir Jacob gave him a grim nod.

"I think it's safe to say that the Ministry has not considered that at this point," Diggory said, trying to smooth things over.

"See that you do in the very near future, Minister," the Queen said sternly, and continued with a glare at Harry. "I will not have Lords of the Realm behaving like common arsonists."

"Yes ma'am," Harry answered dutifully.

"On to your Ministry itself, Mister Diggory," the Queen continued. "I find that your organisation table makes absolutely no sense at all."

"Excuse me?"

"You have Department Heads and Undersecretaries and Junior Ministers scattered all over the place and not a single concept within it makes any sense at all."

Trying to be helpful, Harry took Diggory's copy of the Ministry's org chart, waved his wand, and created a large image up against the wall.

"Now that we can all see what you're referring to, Your Majesty, perhaps we can all offer suggestions as to how to make this slightly less confusing," he said. "Just let me know what you want changed."

Over the next two hours, it seemed they completely re-organised the Ministry of Magic. Percy Weasley had been busy writing it all down, so that the Queen could approve each of the changes separately as an Order-in-Council, which she did.

"Finally, now that that's complete, there is one final issue I'd like to bring up," Hermione said. "In my research, I noticed very little involvement between the Crown and the Ministry since the death of Queen Victoria. Since that time, the number of Lords in the Wizengamot has nearly tripled, and numerous pieces of oppressive and restricting legislation have been passed into Wizarding law. A large chunk of my research focused on the validity of these laws and Lordships."

"And what are your findings?" the Queen asked.

"Fifty-nine of the Lords of the Wizengamot do not have valid letters-patent confirming their position. Most of these were installed in the last twenty years, and I have a list of those names available for all present," Hermione said, handing out a sheet of parchment to the rest of the new Privy Counsellors. Harry recognised several of the names on it from the Wizengamot session.

"Very well. Mr. Weasley, please draft an Order that will expel these members, and deliver it to the Credentials Committee as well as to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for prosecution of fraud." Percy nodded and five minutes later, an Order had been approved expelling the 59 fraudulent Lords.

"Additionally, none of the laws passed since 1951 have received Royal Assent. This includes this list of acts which are completely out of line with both the UK Constitution and international laws such as the Declaration of Human Rights, as well as others on this second list that do not contain any negative aspects," Hermione said, passing around two additional lists. Harry noted all of the previous year's Educational Decrees on the 'bad' list, and the Muggle Protection Act on the 'good' list.

"I will need copies of these laws sent to me," the Queen informed Hermione.

"I can have them here tomorrow," Hermione replied. "There are quite a number of them."

"No matter," the Queen replied. "It will keep my mind off Charles' unfortunate marriage." Hermione nodded assent.

"Very well. If there is no other business to discuss, I will declare this meeting adjourned," the Queen said, allowing the participants to disperse.

"Lord Potter?" Sir Jacob asked, catching up to Harry in the corridor.

"Yes, Sir Jacob?" Harry asked.

"I was wondering if we could meet this weekend or next week to discuss … security issues," the MP said, leading Harry to wonder in turn just how much the man knew about what was going on in the Wizarding world, how much Justin had relayed.

"Absolutely. Does Justin have an owl you could borrow to send me a message?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I shall do so tomorrow evening. My office is in Norman Shaw North, I'll send the room number with my message. Pleasure meeting you Lord Potter, Miss Granger." With that said, Sir Jacob Finch-Fletchey, MP, PC turned on his heel and walked the other way, presumably to catch up to the Prime Minister and catch a ride back to Parliament.

"Well. That was certainly interesting," Hermione said once they were alone in the corridor once more.

"Very," Harry agreed. "I guess I'll find out what he wants to talk about in the next couple of days. Shall we head back to my place?"

"I should really head back to Grimmauld Place," Hermione said. "Not that I'm sure dinner wouldn't be wonderful at your house, but the Order would probably start to worry if I'm gone too much longer." Harry nodded in acceptance.

"Well then, ask them if they'd like to come to dinner on the Sunday before we head back to Hogwarts. I'd like one big happy conversation amongst everybody, that and give Mrs. Weasley a night off from cooking."

"I'll pass along the message, Harry," Hermione said as they reached Jacob the Wizard's office. She took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the fire, leaving for 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry did the same to go to Potter Manor, wondering just what the weekend would bring and looking quite forward to the next day's _Daily Prophet._


	16. Chapter 16

Harry made sure that he, Draco and Narcissa were all still at the breakfast table when the _Prophet_ arrived the next morning.

_**MINISTRY SHAKEUP!**_ blared the headline, and Harry grinned as pictures of him and the Minister appeared above the text of the story.

_Just before press time last evening, the Daily Prophet received an owl from the Office of the Minister for Magic. Contained within was a letter from the Minister, as well as copies of Orders-in-Council bearing the Royal seal. _Prophet_ readers may recall that the last time Orders-in-Council were issued in the Magical world was 1901, to repeal several Ministry decrees Queen Victoria disapproved of._

_This time, the Queen and members of her newly-constituted Privy Council for Magic (which includes the Minister, Lord Harry Potter, and the Muggle Prime Minister as well as a Muggle Member of Parliament) have used the Orders to completely re-organise the Ministry itself. Minister Diggory in his letter informed the _Prophet_ that "the changes to the Ministry's organisation table will be phased in over the next week."_

_In brief, however, the Orders seem to take away a great deal of power from the Minister's office and give it to the Department Heads. For those who recall the behaviour of the various Undersecretaries in the Fudge ministry, this will be a welcome change._

_Furthermore, one of the Orders will severely alter the composition of the Wizengamot, with the Queen and the Privy Council stripping fifty-nine of the current Wizengamot Lords of their seats the Council alleges they obtained fraudulently. Minister Diggory said in his letter that "The DMLE will be handling the investigation into these charges at the request of Her Majesty._

_Finally, though it was not listed with the Orders received by the _Prophet_, Minister Diggory included in his letter a statement that an even bigger change would be occurring in the Ministry tomorrow (Friday). We at the _Prophet_ hope that these changes will truly bring as much benefit to our world as Minister Diggory believes they will._

"You've got to be joking, Potter," Draco said as he finished the article. "That's where you buggered off to yesterday? Another chat with the Queen and more letters for your name?"

"Yep!" Harry replied enthusiastically. "You may address me as The Right Honourable Sir Harry James Potter, Viscount Potter, Baron Black, KCSK, PC, if you wish, Draco."

"Not bloody likely," Draco muttered. "That's going to be a pain to write on envelopes."

"No kidding," Harry sympathized. "And just think of the honours that will be bestowed upon me when I finally beat the Dark Lord."

Draco paled.

"It'll be Order of Merlin and OBE for sure, then probably Order of St. George and if I'm really unlucky, I'll get Victorian Order," he said. "Hell, if I'm really unlucky, she invests me in everything short of the Garter and makes me a Duke _and_ a Marquess _and_ an Earl _in addition to_ the Potter and Black titles. You'd write me the equivalent of an entire letter just getting all my titles right."

Draco looked like he was going to throw up, and Narcissa didn't look that well either.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"You're only a bloody teenager!" the elder Black stated. "It would be unseemly to add anything further to the mess of titles you already hold."

"Well, I could delay beating him until I'm in my mid-20s, but I don't think that would be very fun for the rest of the country," Harry replied. "But it's not like I look forward to all the accolades either. I'll have so many damn medals if I wear them and it's a sunny day I could light something on fire."

Draco snorted.

"And what's this about there being Muggles on the Magical Privy Council?" Narcissa asked, seeming affronted. "What business do Muggles have interfering in our affairs?"

"Well, the Prime Minister runs the country, and even the Minister for Magic is subordinate to him," Harry explained. "If our worlds were integrated, the Minister would be part of the Cabinet, like the Chancellor of the Exchequer. And Sir Jacob Finch-Fletchey, the MP, is on there because his son Justin is a Hufflepuff in Draco's and my year."

"So he does know something of magic?" Narcissa asked, somewhat mollified.

"Yes," Harry replied. "And actually, I'm meeting him in Westminster at the beginning of next week. Probably wants to talk to me about my new Ministry job."

"Oh, that reminds me, when is that tomorrow?" Draco asked.

"Ten," Harry replied. "So breakfast will be early again."

"Can I come?" Draco asked.

"Why?" Harry asked, cautiously.

"To heckle you," Draco said off-handedly. Harry glared. "Alright, alright, just because. I'm bored. Plus, I can maybe scope out anybody who wants to kill you."

"Fine," Harry said. "Glamour charm and be ready to go at 9:30. Oh, and we need to talk this afternoon about that, by the way."

"Fine," Draco said, and returned to his breakfast.

That afternoon found Draco and Harry in Harry's office.

"Alright, spill, Potter, what do you need to talk to me about?"

"I'm in need of some of the information you can provide me," Harry said. "A list of all the Death Eaters you know, and addresses or general locations of their homes."

"What do you need those for?" Draco asked, grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill from the desk.

"Arrest warrants," Harry said. "I'll be talking to Mister Weasley tomorrow to figure out how he got into the homes he raided back in the summer between our first and second year."

"I think the Ministry has a way through the wards of certain families," Draco replied. "They must have, because there's no way Lucius would have let Mr. Weasley in otherwise, especially not in the middle of the bloody night."

"I hope you're right, that will make things much simpler," Harry said.

"What are you planning on charging them with?" Draco asked.

"The top count will be Treason against the Crown, then Sedition, Membership in a Proscribed Organisation, and, where we can prove it, Murder, Attempted Murder, and all that other good stuff," Harry replied. "And for the most recent Azkaban escapees, there'll be a charge of felony escape."

"And just what are you going to do with the Death Eaters you manage to arrest?" Draco asked. "In case you haven't noticed, putting them in Azkaban isn't that effective anymore."

"Oh, I've noticed," Harry replied. "And I've got a plan. It's high time that we got a new prison anyway."

"And just what is this brilliant plan, Potter?" Draco asked.

"Take an old Manor house, get some house-elves to provide rudimentary meals, and place the Death Eaters in solitary confinement there under the Fidelius Charm," Harry replied. "Give it a code name and pick a reliable secret-keeper, and you've got yourself a prison that the Dark Lord can't break his followers out of because he has no idea where it is or how to find it."

Draco looked impressed.

"I didn't know Gryffindors were capable of such rational thought," he teased.

"Shut it, you," Harry replied. "Of course, if they can't buy one, I'll volunteer one of my unused castles or manor houses. There are two or three that I think could be easily converted to such a purpose. I'll be asking the Minister about it tomorrow."

"I can't see why he wouldn't go for it," Draco replied. "Though he would probably suggest just putting the Fidelius on Azkaban."

"Wouldn't work," Harry said. "At least, it shouldn't. If it makes sense, people would _know_ if they couldn't remember anything about Azkaban. But a manor house nobody's been to for twenty years or more?"

"Point taken," Draco replied, handing over his finished list to Harry. "This should be fun."

"Oh yes, great fun," Harry replied, with a trace hint of sarcasm. "You can go now, I need to make a couple fire calls."

Draco took the hint and left, with Harry heading for the parlour's Floo connection. His first call was to "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts", and he waited a few moments for Professor Dumbledore to accept the call.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "How may I be of help to you?"

"Well, I just got a list of names and addresses of known Death Eaters from Draco, and I was wondering if you could get the same sort of list from Professor Snape," Harry said. "Since he's an active Death Eater, his list may be more comprehensive than Draco's."

"I believe I could talk Severus into such a thing, but what do you need it for?" Dumbledore asked. "Surely you're not thinking of storming the homes of Death Eaters by yourself?"

"No, not at all," Harry replied. "Perhaps Mad-Eye told you he's been re-activated as part of a Ministry plan to establish an anti-Voldemort task force within the Ministry?"

"Yes, he mentioned it to me last Friday," Dumbledore answered. "Why?"

"Tomorrow morning I become the leader of that task force," Harry said. "And I intend to capture or kill – preferring capture, of course – as many Death Eaters as I can."

He proceeded to outline the same plan he had just told to Draco to the Headmaster. Dumbledore too, was impressed with Harry's logical thinking.

"If I may make a suggestion, if you do wish to use one of your homes as the prison, I would suggest the Potter family's castle in Devon. It's near the coast and could, given the right encouragement, lead a prisoner to believe that they are actually in Azkaban."

"That's actually the one on the top of my list," Harry replied. "D'you think I could get away with charging rent?"

He would swear to his dying day that Dumbledore had snorted when he'd asked that question, and there certainly was a brighter twinkle in his eyes when he replied.

"It's not out of the realm of possibility," he said. "Was there anything else, or shall I speak with Severus?"

"That's all for now. Just get me the list before 8 tomorrow morning."

"Certainly. Good day, Harry."

"Good day, Professor," Harry said, pulling his head out of the fireplace and working out the crick in his neck. He spent the next half-hour working on a plan for his new job. He would be pulling some of the best law-enforcement people the Ministry had and getting them out there to enforce the law. But first he would have to get numbers from Madame Bones on how many Hit-Wizards, Aurors, and Constables were employed by the Ministry. He wanted his task force (for that was how he was already labeling it in his head) to be large enough to put superior numbers in any field, and multiple fields, and yet still be able to easily communicate with each other and not devolve into chaos.

After that half-hour, he was interrupted by Fawkes appearing in burst of flame carrying a roll of parchment. Harry accepted it with thanks, and Fawkes sang a brief reply before flaming back to Hogwarts. It was, as he expected, Professor Snape's list.

Snape had, to Harry's satisfaction, been able to provide a much more substantive list of names and addresses, along with indications as to how valuable each Death Eater listed was. Immediately, Harry grabbed Draco's list and began to cross-reference the two. Both lists matched, to the letter, and it was all Harry could do not to shout with joy.

Instead, he grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and began work on applications for arrest warrants for the thirty names he had. After the press conference in the morning, he would seek out a Wizengamot judge and formally apply for the warrants, then meet with Mad-Eye and discuss plans on how to serve them.

He was halfway through when Draco dropped back into the room and told him it was time for dinner. Harry half-heartedly put away the quill and ink, rising to join Draco and Narcissa in the dining room.

Halfway through the meal, inspiration struck him.

"What are you thinking?" Draco asked, noticing Harry's eyes light up.

"I was thinking I should get an arrest warrant for Voldemort," Harry said. "And do so before the press conference. What better time to announce the Dark Lord's half-blood identity than at the place where I officially start my stand against him?"

"That might not be such a good idea," Narcissa cautioned. "Very few people are aware of the Dark Lord's true name. They might wonder just who you've ordered arrested."

"Oh, I have a plan," Harry said. "Watch this." He pulled out his wand and, like the spirit of Tom Riddle from the Diary in the Chamber of Secrets, wrote the name Tom Marvolo Riddle in the air, before waving his wand to rearrange the letters.

"Bunch of idiots running around in fear of a half-blood anagram," he groused. "Besides, getting an arrest warrant for him would be mostly symbolic. We all know there's no way Voldemort will ever be brought to trial, but we have to at least observe the conventions of the thing, and that means we put the order out there to capture him, even if we really intend to kill him."

"Does this fit in with your message?" Narcissa asked.

"That the aim of my office is to restore the rule of law to Britain, and end the insurrection? It fits like the last piece of the jigsaw."

"Going to be giving a speech, Potter?" Draco asked. "Dear Merlin, this should be interesting."

"Shut it," Harry said. "Not a speech, just a few words."

"And these 'few words' will be on parchment?" Draco asked, grinning his sinister Slytherin grin.

"Well, of course, I'm not some bloody genius like Hermione who probably has all of the great speeches memorised."

"Well, if it's words on parchment that are going to be delivered at a press conference, it's a speech," Draco replied smugly.

"Shut it," Harry repeated, glaring at his peas. He could feel Draco smirking at him.

"No ice cream for you tonight, Black," he replied, smirking in return at Draco's protest squawk.

After dinner Harry returned to his office, intent on finishing the rest of the warrants with especial attention to Tom Riddle's. Instead, he found a letter on the desk, addressed to him again with all of his titles.

'_Must be Sir Jacob's letter,'_ Harry thought, and he was proved right once he opened it.

_Dear Lord Potter,_

_I write you this letter because I am concerned about the state of affairs within the British wizarding community. My son Justin has informed me as best he can about the situation, and we do receive your pitiful excuse for a newspaper in our household, but both of these sources of information leave me wanting more, and I feel you are the man who can give me most of the information I seek._

_I therefore would like to request a meeting with you Monday evening in my parliamentary office, Norman Shaw North Rm. 207, at around 7 P.M._

_Respectfully,_

_Sir Jacob Finch-Fletchey, MP PC_

Monday. _'Well,'_ Harry thought, _'at least he gave me four days to figure out how the hell I'm going to get there.'_ The easiest way would probably be to refresh his supply of pounds from Gringotts Friday afternoon, Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and then catch a taxi from Charing Cross Road to Derby Gate on Whitehall. The other option was flooing into the Prime Minister's Office at 10 Downing Street, but it would be substantially more difficult to slip out of Number 10 and through Downing Street's security on his way to the office building.

Making a note of the appointment, Harry returned to work on the warrants. He was going to give the Wizarding world a right shock in the morning, of that he was certain. A well-deserved, long-needed shock.

* * *

_A/N: Another chapter in the books! And yet another chapter without anything really happening . Next chapter will feature Harry getting in touch with his Marauder heritage, a smattering of homoerotic innuendo, a press conference for the ages, a Doctor Who reference and some planning! It's almost done, save the planning, and I'll have it here for you on 10 June. In the meantime, let me know what you thought of this chapter! Reviews seem to be the only way I can tell how many people are reading it, since the hits counter seems to not be working AGAIN._

_Until then, peace and be well!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning saw Harry and Draco entering the Floo at 9 A.M. – 30 minutes earlier than Harry had originally planned, but necessary due to his sudden need to see a judge about a special warrant. The pair proceeded to the Wizengamot offices, where Harry was able to surprisingly quickly locate a current Lord Justice.

"What is it you need, Lord Potter?" the middle-aged wizard asked, at which time Harry promptly handed over the arrest warrant application he'd made out for the Dark Lord.

"An arrest warrant for Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort?" the man asked, reading over the parchment very quickly. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Hardly," Harry replied. "The man is a known criminal, with plenty of evidence and witnesses who can attest to that fact. Killing him without this warrant could land me in prison, my lord."

"Oh, I see. You want to do this by the books, do you?"

"As much as you can do things like this by the books, yes sir," Harry replied. "I also have warrant applications for thirty Death Eaters, but those can be taken care of after the press conference."

"My my, you are doing the thing properly. Did you help him with this, Mister Black?" the judge asked Draco.

"No milord, this is all Lord Potter," Draco replied. "I'm simply here for my own amusement."

"I see. Very well, milord, I shall grant your application for Mr. Riddle's arrest. I presume I shall see you after your press conference for the other applications?"

"Yes, milord," Harry replied. "Thank you, milord." The wizard nodded and shut the door to his office behind Harry and Draco. A quick glance at the clock told Harry he and Draco still had forty minutes until the press conference actually started.

"Well, that was good thinking, Potter. Now what are we going to do to for the next half-hour?"

"Well, we _could _go break in to Magical Maintenance and play with the weather, but they might not be too pleased with that," Harry suggested. "Or we could hang out in the Atrium and send Tripping Jinxes at random people, but they definitely wouldn't like that. Sending a tornado through the Records Room would probably get me executed by mad file clerks, and transfiguring random office staff into pigeons probably wouldn't be good either. Do you have any ideas?"

Draco gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth several times as he attempted to form words.

"Are you mad?" he finally asked.

"It's a distinct possibility," Harry replied with a nod. "Of course, pranking people is in my blood, y'know."

"Did you put too much sugar in your tea this morning? You seem…hyperactive, I think the word is," Draco said.

"Nah. Just excited," Harry responded. "Not every day you get a big important job and control over hundreds of witches and wizards, after all."

"Well, I suppose that's true and all, but shouldn't you be acting a little more seriously?" Draco asked, watching Harry begin to bounce up and down.

"I just told you we're not pranking anybody, Draco!" Harry replied, perhaps a little too loudly. Draco shot him a look and grabbed him, holding him down and pinning him to the wall.

"I said seriously, not Sirius-like," he growled in Harry's ear. Harry shivered at the tone of Draco's voice.

"Unless you're planning on snogging me, could you let me go? I'll try to calm down," Harry promised. Draco held on for another moment, then released Harry.

"Great! Now, let's go to the Minister's office. We can make Percy fetch us tea while we read the crap magazines in the outer office to kill time until the Minister wants to head to the press room."

"I like your thinking," Draco said, grinning. The two set off and were shortly in the Minister's outer office.

"Lord Potter," Percy said in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you for another twenty minutes."

"Well, we had something to do early that finished earlier than I would, so we've got time to kill. Could we trouble you for some tea?"

"Yes, of course. Nothing in your Earl Grey, correct?"

"Right."

"And for you, Mister Black?" Percy asked Draco, civil-tongued despite a grimace.

"English Breakfast, milk, two sugars, thank you," Draco replied, a dismissive smile on his face. Percy was gone soon after.

"You know, you might want to think about treating Percy better," Harry suggested.

"Oh? Why?" Draco asked, half-scandalised that Harry would suggest he voluntarily treat a member of the Weasley family with anything but disdain.

"He's a Privy Counsellor too," Harry said.

"You're joking," Draco said. "That pompous weasel?"

"I'm dead serious. The six counselors are me, Amos in there, Percy, Hermione, the Prime Minister, and Justin Finch-Fletchey's father."

"The Hufflepuff muggleborn?" Draco asked, curious.

"Yeah. His dad's an MP and apparently he's worried about the state of our Government."

"Interesting," Draco remarked, glancing at the reading material. "Ugh. Well, at least there's an _International Times-Herald_," he remarked, grabbing a newspaper.

"A what?" Harry asked. He had never heard of this publication, and wondered if it would have a representative at the press conference.

"It's a paper with news from other countries," Draco replied, indicating the headline which had something to do with upcoming elections in Bulgaria.

"And it's…better than the _Prophet?_" Harry asked.

"Oh, loads. But it's also twice as expensive and contains half as much British news." Harry nodded. That made sense, after all. As bad as the _Prophet _was, it was still the British magical newspaper that concerned itself mostly with domestic news.

"Is there a Sport section?" Harry asked as Percy returned with the tea. Both boys thanked him as he returned to his desk.

"Yeah. You want it, I suppose?" Draco asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"Well, since you seem to be enjoying the article on Luxembourgian sweets so much…" Harry replied, hand outstretched. Draco pulled the requested section out and handed it over.

"Bloody Gryffindors, only concerned with Quidditch," he muttered.

"Oh, speaking of Quidditch, how'd Falmouth do Wednesday?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his own tea.

"Lost 300-250, but we're ahead on aggregate by 100 points," Draco replied.

"How the hell does that work?" Harry asked. "Do they not count the Snitch towards the points in Europe?"

"They're very much Quidditch traditionalists in Belgium," Draco replied. "It's where UEQA is headquartered and where the Rules on European Competition come from. The Snitch is counted towards points in the match, but the winner of the series is first determined by who scores the most goals with the Quaffle. Then, if that's level, they look at who won each match. If they were split, then they go to the Snitch. If one team caught the Snitch both times, then they're declared the winners and advance. If _that's_ level, it goes to penalties."

"…UEQA?" Harry asked, after trying to absorb all that information. Draco scoffed.

"Union of European Quidditch Associations. Honestly. It's organised just like your precious football in the Muggle world. UEQA is part of FIQA, the International Federation of Quidditch Associations, which puts on the World Cup and maintains the Rules of the Game, which are much more Snitch-friendly than UEQAs, thanks to the fucking Belgians."

"So we play under FIQA rules at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, knowing it was probably an obvious question but wanting to know the answer anyway.

"Merlin, yes," Draco replied. "If the Inter-House Cup were played on UEQA rules, I wouldn't have anything to do with Quidditch at school."

"Oh," Harry said, ending the conversation. Draco returned to articles about Belorussian Floo Network issues, and Harry started reading the lead article of the Sport section about Holyhead's demolition of the Bigonville Bombers in their first leg of the European Cup. The Harpies had won 500-140, and the article writer was full of praise for the 'full-bodied, fantastic fliers' that comprised the squad.

By the time Harry had finished both the section and his tea, Amos Diggory was coming out of his office, ready to escort Harry (and Draco) to the Ministry's press briefing room. It was just down the hallway from the Minister's Office, and practically next door to the office that had been designated for Harry's task force. Harry noted as they passed by that it was also next door to the office of what two days ago was the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, which had been re-designated as the Senior Deputy Minister, an office that had been vacant since Diggory's first full day on the job.

Once they arrived at the press room, Draco found a seat near the front, but was told to move by Harry, who didn't feel comfortable talking to everyone with Draco sitting so close and staring at him. Draco had scoffed and called him a wimp, but had moved towards the back regardless.

Now the clock was chiming ten, and the room had been comfortably filled with a number of reporters and cameramen. A quick shake of the head from Draco indicated he didn't recognise any Death Eaters amongst the group, so Harry was relatively reassured that this press conference would not be marred by violence.

"Good morning, everybody," Amos said from the podium, opening the press conference. Harry was sitting behind and to the right of him, waiting to be introduced.

"I have called you all here today to announce the most important reform agreed upon by the Ministry and the newly-constituted Privy Council. This reform began as a suggestion from Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour – a dedicated office of Deputy Ministerial rank with one mission and one mission only: put down the insurrection of the Dark Lord and his Death Eater minions. The new Special Deputy Minister for Security will command a combined force of Hit Wizards, Aurors, and Wizarding Constables from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol who will be focused on anti-Death Eater activities. Auror Scrimgeour, the Privy Council and myself all agree that there is only one man for this job, and I am pleased to announce today that he has accepted the job. Please welcome the new Special Deputy Minister for Security, Viscount Sir Harry Potter."

There was a smattering of applause as Harry and Amos switched places.

"Good morning, everyone," Harry said. "I would like to clear one thing up at the start here: I did not take this job for extra points on my CV, or to make my name completely impossible to write on envelopes."

Draco and a few others chuckled.

"I accepted the job because I agree that the Dark Lord is a scourge on Britain and does our world a continued disservice with every breath he continues to take. Between this new office and my position as Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights, I am confident that the Dark Lord and his minions will not be long for this Earth.

"As my first act in this office, I have secured the first of what I hope to be many arrest warrants for known and suspected Death Eaters. Working with intelligence sources, my Office will be making a concerted effort to apprehend all those identified, hold them in a secure prison, and give them a fair and secure trial which we hope will result in justice for the innocents murdered or otherwise harmed by these terrorists. I'll take any questions at this time."

"Lord Potter, if I may," one reporter asked. "You mentioned a moment ago that you have secured an arrest warrant. Who is it for?"

"The arrest warrant was secured one hour ago, and it is for Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry answered.

"A follow-up? Who is that?"

"Mr. Riddle is the wizard whose alias is the cause of all this nonsense: Lord Voldemort," Harry answered. The wizards in the room gasped.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle was a half-blood who attended Hogwarts School in between 1938 and 1945. It was during his time in Slytherin House that he learned his ancestry on his mother's side traced back to the Founder of that House and, upon discovering that his birth father was a Muggle aristocrat, Riddle murdered his father and that man's family and developed the Lord Voldemort persona. He is charged with the murder of those Muggles, as well as Treason against the Crown, Terrorism, and Sedition."

"What proof do you have of his identity?" one reporter near the back shouted. Harry drew his wand, and drew in the air – as he had the night previous for Draco and Narcissa, and as Voldemort himself had in the Chamber of Secrets – the name Tom Marvolo Riddle, and forced the letters to re-arrange themselves to I am Lord Voldemort.

"While I am very much aware that most of the Wizarding World refuses to call Voldemort Voldemort, preferring ludicrous monikers such as You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for reasons I can only assume stem from an absurd fixation with hyphens, this Office will be calling this traitor by his name: Tom Riddle," Harry said, sternly. "Next question."

"Lord Potter," a reporter near the middle asked. "You said one of your goals is to hold captured Death Eaters in a secure prison. Don't you agree, however, that with the most recent mass breakouts, Azkaban Prison is far from secure?"

"I absolutely agree with that assessment," Harry said. "Which is why I did not say Azkaban would be the secure prison we will hold the Death Eaters in." He grinned his winning grin and called on a witch in the front row.

"If not Azkaban, then where?"

"That has yet to be decided," Harry replied. "I will be discussing several options with the Minister after this press conference, but I do hope you all won't take offence should I say up front I won't be telling you exactly where the new prison is once it's decided."

"Lord Potter!" one reporter shouted out without being called on. "Why have you issued an arrest warrant for the Dark Lord? Do you really think he can be apprehended and tried?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous," Harry replied. "In fact, I plan on taking great pleasure in killing him with extreme prejudice. Unfortunately, without an arrest warrant, should I do so, I would be susceptible to murder charges, and I'd very much like to spend my life out of prison."

"If so many Dark Wizards are trying to take over the Ministry, shouldn't the proper response be to consider the British Wizarding World to be in a civil war?" asked a greasy-looking reporter near the back.

"Absolutely not," Harry replied. "Despite appearances, our intelligence suggests that the Dark Lord has no more than 100 living minions under his command, plus a few hundred Dementors. These men and women are breaking the laws of the United Kingdom, and thus the proper response is a law enforcement one. We will not be borrowing cruise missiles and artillery pieces from the Muggles and blowing up the Death Eaters. That's unfair and dishonourable, despite how awesome it would be to watch."

"When do you plan to begin making arrests?"

"As soon as I have signed warrants, a plan, and copious amounts of backup."

"What will happen when you go back to Hogwarts on the 1st?"

"Rest assured we have considered that, and the Minister and I are confident that between myself and my right-hand man in this venture, Alastor Moody, we won't miss a step even with me in classes most of the week."

"Any other questions?" Harry asked after a brief silence. None were forthcoming.

"Excellent. Off you go, then, get writing!" he said, waving them out of the room. "I've got a prison to plan."

The reporters dispersed and Draco came back forward. Amos turned to Harry with a curious look on his face.

"New prison?"

"Yeah. Let's head back to your office so I can explain it in private," Harry said. The trip was made with little fanfare, and soon all three were within the actual office of the Minister.

"What's your idea?" Amos asked once they were all situated.

"Well, as you know, Azkaban is about as safe and secure a prison right now as a wet cardboard box in Picadilly Circus. I currently have 23 unused homes, 3 of which I feel would make excellent detention centres. Basically, the plan is convert all the bedrooms into solitary confinement cells, appoint a Senior Auror as the live-in warden, get the house-elves of the property to feed them like they do at Hogwarts, push the food up from the kitchen to their plates; drop a Fidelius on the place and make the warden Secret-Keeper, Bob's your uncle, awesome new prison."

Amos looked flabbergasted.

"One Auror for 100 prisoners?"

"You don't need but one," Harry replied. "They're not going to know where they're going, and they won't be able to leave the cells unless they're capable of wandless transfiguration."

"What about the doors and windows?"

"Transfiguration," Harry said. "Once you have them in the room, turn the door into part of the wall. If you need to drag 'em out, reverse the transfiguration."

"And how do you get them there?" Amos asked.

"Change the Floo address to the new name of the Prison…personally, I think Pandorica is an awesome name, and Floo call the Warden when there are prisoners for him to pick up. He comes through, you stun the prisoners so they don't hear the name when the Floo opens, drag them through and lock 'em up," Harry replied.

"And what are your suggestions?"

"The best one is probably the Potter Castle in Devon. It's near the sea, and it's already got dungeons. Very little conversion needed, but it could hold 100 prisoners easily," Harry answered.

"And how much would you charge for its use?" Amos asked.

"Eh. 100 Galleons per prisoner per month should easily cover it," Harry replied. Amos' eyes bugged out. He was _not_ going to pay up to 10,000 Galleons a month for a prison.

"Fifty," he countered.

"Eighty-five," Harry counter-counter-offered.

"Sixty-five," Amos counter-counter-counter-offered.

"Seventy-five," Harry replied. Amos paused.

"Done."

"Excellent. I'll take Moody and a couple Aurors with me there next week and we'll start the preparations. Once it's done, we'll give you the grand tour and start planning our raids."

"Any ideas for those now?" Amos asked. "That don't involve burning their houses down?"

"Yes, actually. But they're very sketchy at the moment and don't merit saying. You'll find out when we're ready to launch them, because we'll need your authorisation for one aspect of it."

"Alright then, keep your secrets for now. But I want something to happen before you head to Hogwarts, am I clear?"

"Crystal clear, Minister," Harry confirmed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get the rest of my warrant applications approved."

"Certainly. Good day, Special Deputy Minister."

Harry and Draco nodded in acknowledgement and left the office, returning back to the office of the judge who'd signed Riddle's warrant.

"30 more for you, milord," Harry said, handing over the pieces of parchment. The judge stopped reading after the third, and just proceeded to sign his name to the other 27 warrants.

"Here you are, Lord Potter," he said, handing back all 30 signed warrants. "Go get 'em."

"Yes, milord," Harry said with a grin. "Thank you, milord."

With that, Harry and Draco made their way back up to Level One. Harry wanted to peek into his new office and see if anybody (namely, Mad-Eye) was there. He was pleased to find that Mad-Eye Moody was indeed there, wearing red Auror robes and with his back to the boys.

"G'morning, Alastor!" Harry said cheerfully, ducking in anticipation of a curse from the old Auror. He was rewarded with a Stunner flying over his head and smacking into Draco, who collapsed on the spot.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Harry commented, straightening up.

"Constant Vigilance, Potter!" Moody replied. "Little tosser should have put up a shield if he didn't want to take a nap."

Harry snorted, but turned around and _ennervate_'d Draco, who stood back up and glared daggers at Moody, who just laughed.

"What've you got, boss?" he asked Harry, who handed over his 31 arrest warrants. Moody spent a few moments reviewing them.

"Very good," he complimented. "That's pretty much all the Inner Circle and mid-to-upper level Death Eaters out of commission if we can get them and hold them."

"Holding them won't be a problem anymore," Harry assured him. Moody looked skeptical, prompting Harry to once again relay his plan to convert one of his unused homes into a prison. As with Dumbledore and Diggory, Moody approved.

"So you've got warrants, and a place to hold prisoners. Now, how are you planning on getting prisoners to put in it?"

"Nighttime raids," Harry said. "Shut off the Floo network for a night, go to a property and erect anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards to trap the suspect, go in and get him."

"Aye," Moody said. "That may work. You'll need air support, though, in case they try to escape on brooms."

"I hadn't thought of that," Harry admitted. "How many people are we going to have available for this?" he asked.

"According to the info Diggory gave me, 1 company of Hit-Wizards, 2 from the MLEP, and 3 from the Auror Corps. That's about 1/3rd of the DMLE's total, so about 1200 all told," Moody said.

"How many Aurors and Hit-Wizards?" Harry asked, thinking on the spot.

"800," Moody replied. "200 per company."

"Ok, how about this," Harry said. "We detail the MLEP constables to step up patrols of Wizarding areas like the Alleys and Hogsmeade, to demonstrate to people that there's a dedicated Ministry law enforcement presence there. After all, it takes someone with balls to commit a crime in full view of a police officer."

"Makes sense," Moody said. "150 for the Alleys and 50 for Hogsmeade? And that leaves you 800 people to do your dirty work."

"Exactly," Harry said. "Maybe have 100 Aurors on call at all times, available to respond to emergencies within a minute. That still leaves me with 700 available to execute these warrants. It'll be like Kristallnacht."

There were blank looks from Draco and Moody. Harry sighed.

"Something the German Muggles did in the 30s. Don't worry about it, it's just an analogy. Anyway. 700 people, 30 arrests to be made. That's 23 to a team. Think that'll be enough?"

"Aye, should be," Moody replied. "Without any way to summon back-up, 23 Aurors and Hit-Wizards will be more than enough to take out individual Death Eaters."

"And if they're not willing to give up the ghost after a while, there's always Fiendfyre," Harry said. Moody's eyes lit up.

"I always knew I'd like you, Potter," he said. "That's brilliant."

"We'll need schematics of the homes, if we can get them," Harry told him. "And I'd like you to set up a meeting for Tuesday with the company commanders, so we can go over these plans in person, together."

"Aye, I can do that," Moody said. "I'll see you Tuesday, Potter."

"Until then, Mad-Eye," Harry said, as he and Draco took their leave of the office and made their way back to Potter Manor.

* * *

_A/N: Well! Here's what I think is the 2nd longest chapter so far, and I must say I definitely like it. One reviewer last chapter mentioned a lack of Knights action so far, and for that I must apologise: I truly did not expect that it would take this long to get them back to Hogwarts so he could begin recruiting. At the very least, Chapter 19 will feature Harry in his Knight armour, so there will be that little bit to look forward to? If that can tide you over for a couple chapters, Harry and co. should be back at school by Chapter 20 or 21, and they should definitely be back to Avebury by Ch. 25 for training._

_Anyway, Ch. 18 is already completed (how else could I be working on 19?) and will feature my first ever attempt at writing Cockney, an explanation as to how a certain Tolkien quote does not apply to Harry Potter, as well as a nice discussion about bloodlines and how Light wizards like the Potters view Muggleborns._

_To anyone who caught the Doctor Who reference in this chapter, congratulations! And I must say, I'm looking forward VERY much to the two-part finale!_

_Also, to anyone who is upset by the Kristallnacht reference: I am not trying to cause offence, but I couldn't think of a better analogy. If you can, let me know and I may change it._

_Finally, since tomorrow (11 June) marks the kick-off of the FIFA World Cup, I'd like to take this opportunity to say GO ENGLAND and GO U.S.A.! I haven't made up my mind about who to cheer for on the 12th, so I'll cover my bases and support both teams._

_Hope you enjoyed! Please review and let me know what you thought!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	18. Chapter 18

Monday morning found Harry still trying to wade through the mail he'd received from Saturday. An hour after most of the Wizarding world woke up to their Saturday edition of the _Prophet_ – or whichever other publication they subscribed to, Harry knew for a fact that every wizarding news source at the press conference had published _something_ the next day – the owls had started arriving. Thousands of them, from across Britain and even some from Ireland, Norway, Iceland, and France, and on top of that, a few letters came from deep into Europe, borne by very tired owls. Harry, Narcissa, and Draco had immediately set about opening them all and sorting them.

The highest priority letters were the Howlers. They'd received forty, all from Death Eaters. Lucius' had been boringly vicious, while Bellatrix's shrill promises of castration, disembowelment and decapitation interspersed with curses in French and diatribes about the weather were at least entertaining.

By Harry's count, they had opened 30,000 letters to this point, and there were at least another 5-10,000 awaiting their attention. The 30,000 had been grouped into 3 piles: 1, the largest, was for letters of support and well-wishing, 2 was for tips on suspected Death Eater activity (there were nearly 1,000 letters in this group alone, mostly coming from Wiltshire) and 3 was for letters expressing contempt for and wishing death upon Harry. Most of them were anonymous, and dreadfully uncreative. Those stupid enough to sign their name to their letter would be receiving a visit from the Aurors, investigating whether the threat was credible, Harry decided. If it was, or if the writer turned out to be on the list of Death Eaters Harry had received from Snape, they would be arrested on the spot.

"Potter, you need to see about re-directing your mail!" Draco exclaimed after sorting another 30 letters. "I'm not going to be your correspondence secretary!"

"I'm not exactly thrilled about this, you know," Harry said. "I've had about two dozen paper cuts and there's only so many times you can read somebody wishing for you to be disemboweled by a rusty spoon before you give serious consideration to doing it yourself."

"So don't bother," Draco said. "Let's just pitch the rest of these in a fire and see about finding a way to screen your mail that doesn't involve me drowning in parchment!"

Part of Harry argued that Draco's idea was very bad. Chucking all the letters (save those in piles 2 and 3) into the fireplace without screening them might lose them valuable intelligence. But at the same time, he really didn't want to spend the entirety of a third day opening and sorting letters. He'd already missed two full days of training to sort his mail as it was.

"You're right," Harry said. He conjured two storage boxes for the letters in piles 2 and 3, and quickly had them stored. He would send them along to Mad-Eye this afternoon. As for the remaining 35,000…

"_INCENDIO!_" Harry, Draco and Narcissa shouted, shooting jets of flame at the massive pile of letters that had been stacked into the fireplace. A protective ward followed from Harry's wand to make sure the fireball went up the chimney, not out into the house. Harry amusedly wondered if there were any pigeons roosting atop the chimney and if they had been roasted by flames or suffocated by thick smoke.

"Well, now that we're done with all that fun, I'm going to go take a nap," Draco said. "My eyes hurt."

Harry's did too, but napping simply wasn't in the cards for him. Not reading anything for a week, now, that would do quite nicely. It wasn't likely to happen, but it would be nice. As it was, Harry decided he would close his eyes for a brief period to rest them. Then he would read from his (now outdated) book on the Wizarding government, have dinner and head to London.

Unfortunately, as with most things in his life, things could not be that simple for Harry Potter. He shut his eyes, and the next thing he knew he was being smacked upside the head by what felt like a cricket bat.

"What the bloody hell was that for!" he asked, snapping his eyes open and rounding on his attacker, who turned out to be Draco.

"It's 4:30, you great prat," Draco said. "You have a meeting to get ready for, and it'll be dinner time soon."

"How long have I been asleep?" Harry asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh, only about SIX HOURS!"

"Calm down! Merlin, you're acting like Hermione," Harry said, wondering why Draco had been acting so much like a PMSing woman so often lately.

"Ugh," Draco said. "Come on, I found something two hours ago I wanted to show you."

"What?" Harry asked.

"If I told you, it would spoil the fun!" Draco exclaimed, on his way out of the office.

"Cheeky git," Harry muttered, rubbing his head again as he followed Draco out of the office, through the parlour, up the stairs, down a corridor, up another set of stairs, down another corridor, up a third set of stairs and down a third corridor until they reached a door with a gilded doorframe. Draco pushed open the door and led Harry into a room filled with portraits and dominated on the wall across from the door by a large tapestry.

"Look at that," Draco said, in awe despite this being the second time he'd seen it. "Amazing."

Harry walked closer to the tapestry, and found his name quickly near the bottom. Remembering a spell from the grimoire, he withdrew his wand and tapped his name, watching in amazement as letters formed in the air.

**Harry James Potter**

**44****th**** Viscount Potter**

**52****nd**** Baron Black**

**48****th**** Generation Pureblood Potter**

"What?" Draco asked. "Wait a minute, how does it say you're pureblood? Wasn't your Mum a muggleborn?"

"First generation pureblood," Harry said. "It was in that book you made me get on Wizarding politics, before I went in and shook the tree."

"But," Draco said. "They're _not_ purebloods! Their parents are _Muggles!_"

"What's your point?" Harry asked. "Their parentage is irrelevant, it's the blood that flows through _their_ veins that's important. And if their blood is Wizarding blood, they're pureblood. If they are the first in their families with wizarding blood, they are first generation. Right, great-grandfather?"

"Quite correct, milord," the portrait of George Potter spoke up from his portrait near the window. "Young Harry is spot on, Cousin Draco. I remember arguing alongside Rigel in the Wizengamot over how we should classify the Muggleborns. Your own great-grandfather was having nothing of it, until we pointed out the number of Lords whose families only stretched back 15-20 generations. They had to have come from somewhere, and that somewhere was from first-generations marrying other first generations or into older families and producing young wizarding offspring."

Draco didn't look convinced. His Malfoy conditioning was showing in a major way.

"Might I suggest you re-read the chapters on bloodlines more carefully, Cousin?" George Potter asked Draco, who looked torn.

"But," he began, trying to come up with a counter-argument, and failing miserably, "I was taught that the more generations your family could trace its ancestry, the more powerful you are. Wouldn't that mean that first-generations are the weakest of the weak?"

"Well, for starters, that's rubbish," George Potter argued back. "Half of the oldest families are on the verge of becoming Squibs due to their attempts to only marry the other old families, while most of the first-generation witches and wizards are some of the strongest and smartest, like Harry's mother. The only 'power' that genealogy holds is political clout."

Harry took over. "The whole case for welcoming in and training as many first-generations as we possibly can is to save the Old Families by injecting new blood into them and reducing the chances of Squibs. It's…chapter two, or three, I think."

"I still don't understand," Draco said.

"Look at Crabbe and Goyle," Harry said. "They're pretty useless for anything but coat racks and doorstops, right?"

Draco nodded.

"They're both pureblood, right?"

Draco nodded.

"How many times have Crabbes married Crabbes, Goyles married Goyles, and Crabbes married Goyles?"

"…Plenty," Draco admitted. Harry cancelled the spell that showed his own name to highlight the Potter tapestry as a whole.

"Now, how many times on this do you see where a Potter has married another Potter?" Draco approached the tapestry and scrutinised it from top to bottom, side to side.

"…Zero," he finally admitted. "But fat lot of good it's done you, you're the only one left!"

"Yes, I may be the only living Potter, but the constant injection of first-generation blood into the Potter family has kept our magic from deteriorating. There are only five Squibs on this entire tapestry, and I don't think it's really unfair to say that I'm a pretty strong wizard."

"Very good, milord," George cut in once more. "In fact, Cousin Draco, there are at least two dozen names on that tapestry that were first-generation when they married into the Potter family. In fact, our propensity for marrying first-generations led to the creation of three Houses which became Noble houses with seats on the Wizengamot: the Abbotts, the Crouches, and the Macmillians."

"Ugh, you're related to that pompous Hufflepuff git?" Draco said upon hearing the last.

"Guess so," Harry said with a shrug. "He's probably on here somewhere, but I can't be buggered to look for him."

They were interrupted by a house elf popping in and announcing dinner.

"Go on then, young Lord and Cousin Draco. Do come back and visit again, I haven't had such wonderful discussion since 1927!" George said. Harry chuckled and led Draco out of the room.

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, as neither boy particularly wanted to rehash the bloodlines discussion with Narcissa. After a rather above-average pudding, Harry retired upstairs to change into a suit as the clock was ringing six. Ten minutes later, he headed down into the parlour and Floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron. He'd been pleasantly surprised to discover that he still had 200 pounds in his wallet, eliminating the need to drop by the bank before heading to Westminster. All the same, he had decided to leave an hour ahead of time because of traffic concerns.

He was very glad of this when he stepped out onto Charing Cross Road. Not only were there no vacant taxis, a red traffic signal almost out of Harry's sight had produced a backlog of cars right up to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. Sighing, Harry headed to the kerb and waited for a taxi.

Thankfully, once the signal turned green he didn't have to wait long at all. The second cab down the street stopped for him. The driver obviously recognised the style of clothing Harry was wearing and Harry could practically see the pound signs in his eyes as he asked the young Lord where he wished to go this evening.

"Derby Gate, Westminster," Harry told him. "As close as you can get me to the Norman Shaw buildings."

"Right-o, guv'nor," the cabbie said, bringing the cab back into the flow of traffic. Harry checked his watch as they re-entered the street proper, it was 6:20. It was a little over three miles from Charing Cross to Derby Gate, and the way traffic was moving, they would make that distance in about twenty minutes to a half-hour. That would give him ten minutes to make his way to Sir Jacob's office.

While the cab slowly made its way through the London traffic, Harry relaxed into the seat and allowed himself to ponder how he was going to answer the MP's questions. They would be pointed, and they would be critical. He figured Tolkien would be a good way to relate the man to the problem with the Death Eaters, with a little tweaking and explanation.

"This is as close as I can get ye, guv," the cabbie said at the entrance to Derby Gate.

"That's fine, I've got legs," Harry said with a smile. "How much is the fare?"

"Twenty quid," the man replied automatically. Harry pulled out his wallet.

"Have 30, and a good evening," he said, handing over the money as he stepped out of the car.

"To ye as well, guv," the cabbie said, taking the money and pulling the cab away once again, leaving Harry on the kerb, with about a thousand feet separating him and his destination. He checked his watch and found that he had a comfortable 10 minutes in which to get there. He set off down the street at a leisurely stroll, making his way into Norman Shaw North and then up to the second floor, where he was quickly able to locate Sir Jacob's office. He knocked just as Big Ben began chiming 7 o'clock.

"Come in," the occupant called, and Harry did so.

"Evening, Lord Potter," Sir Jacob said, looking up from a report on something or other. "Glad you could make it. Please, have a seat." Harry did so.

"Now, can you tell me what the hell is going on?" The MP's tone was rather savage, but since Harry was expecting it he did not flinch … much.

"Are you familiar with your Tolkien?" he asked.

"Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger?" Sir Jacob recited, and Harry nodded. "What about it?"

"Disregard it," he said, bluntly. "Given that nearly all the Death Eaters are from Slytherin House, you would think this saying would make even more sense, but it doesn't. When it comes to Death Eaters, there is not a single subtle bone amongst the lot, and they're only quick to anger because they're a load of thin-skinned gits."

"OK. But that still doesn't answer my question."

"What the hell is going on? We have a group of 'pure-blood' wizard minions enslaved to a half-blood lunatic. These minions call themselves Death Eaters – stupidest name in the history of creation for anything, mind you – and their stated goal is to see Wizards ruling the world with Muggles as their slaves, and to do so they will attempt to purge the wizarding world of Muggleborns like your son, who they call Mudbloods, most half-bloods, and all those they consider 'blood-traitors': pure-blooded wizards who are quite happy with the status quo," Harry said.

"And what are they doing towards this end?" Sir Jacob asked.

"Killing," Harry said flatly. "Some raping and kidnapping, but mostly killing. Their favourite method is the Killing Curse, which is a curse that kills you, as the name says. If their aim is simply lots of death and destruction fast, they may instead sic giants or trolls on a village, or set a lot of things on fire. Unfortunately, most of the time the Ministry response is either exceptionally late or completely after the fact."

"And you aim to change that, I presume?"

"Yes," Harry said. "And I believe I've already made progress on this front. There is now a force of 200 Aurors which will be dispatched to deal with attacks at the first notice."

"How does that differ from the previous arrangement?" Sir Jacob asked.

"From what I understand, there was a verification process whereupon receipt of notice of an attack in progress, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would send an Auror to the report sight to recon, and then if that Auror confirmed there was an attack, he would return to the Ministry and round up a group of Aurors to go and fight. This whole process took between five and fifteen minutes, which meant that by the time the Aurors arrived _en masse_, the Death Eaters were by and large gone. Now, a complete force will be dispatched without confirmation, hoping to save that time and use it to actually do some fighting."

"What other plans do you have?" the older man asked.

"I've directed the Wizarding Constables under my command to step up their patrol of the high-traffic areas such as Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. I intend further to place a detachment of 50 Aurors at Hogwarts to contribute to the defence of the school, as well as to perform checks of the students arriving on the First for Dark Marks or proscribed materials," Harry said. "Furthermore, once I have recruited and trained a full complement of Knights, I will launch a summer offensive that will hopefully put down Voldemort and his insurrection once and for all."

"Knights?" the Commander of the British Empire asked.

"Surely you wondered how I came by my 'sir'?" Harry asked. "I am the Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury, a Wizarding Order of Knights that have existed in various forms at various points of time since the Norman Conquest in 1066."

"I see," Sir Jacob said. "How many do you have at present?"

"Counting myself, I have five, but I'm hoping for another twenty. Truth be told, I'm hoping to recruit a large amount of that number from the Defence Against the Dark Arts study group I led last term," Harry said.

"Would that include –"

"If Justin wishes, I wouldn't say no. He's a very capable young man."

"I think if you were to make the offer, he would accept. We're a Tory family, milord. We know and don't hesitate to do our duty for Queen and Country. Besides, it's not many sixteen year olds who have the opportunity to be Knighted now, is it?"

"You have a point," Harry said. "Perhaps I'll send him a letter in the next couple of days."

"Have you made any progress on the issue we discussed in the Privy Council last week?" Sir Jacob asked.

"About how I'm going to apprehend the criminals?" Harry asked, seeking clarification.

"Yes," the MP replied.

"A little bit. I've got two aspects of a plan kicking about in my head, one of which involves an ambush on multiple fronts to serve arrest warrants on 30 of the top Death Eaters that our intelligence sources know of, then carting them off to a new prison that my office is also taking responsibility for creating."

"Finally given up on that 'impenetrable fortress' of yours in the North Sea, then?" Sir Jacob's remark was delivered with substantially dripping sarcasm.

"Well, I have," Harry said. "And since from here on out, stamping out this rubbish is my responsibility, my opinion on the matter is the only one that matters."

"Well said," Sir Jacob said. "You know, this whole situation reminds me of The Troubles. A group of dissidents, who use fear and terror as their main weapon, aiming to overthrow lawful government sounds terribly familiar."

"Well, here's to resolving this mess quickly and without the need to involve the Yanks," Harry said, raising a mock glass.

"Hear, hear," Sir Jacob agreed, following suit. They both were grinning as they pretended to knock back a drink.

"Is there anything the Government can do to help you in this?" Sir Jacob asked, sobering up once more.

"Doubt it," Harry replied, sadly. "Though I suppose, as much as it pains me to admit it, you might want to get together with the PM and the Home Secretary and come up with some excuses for some pretty freaky stuff that'll start happening as this thing kicks into high gear."

"Like random mansions burning down all of a sudden?" Sir Jacob teased, grinning. Harry laughed.

"Oh, you never know when a meteorite's going to crash to Earth now, do you?" he countered airily. "Or when an RAF plane will accidentally drop a bomb in the middle of the English countryside?"

The MP winced.

"That's actually happened?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Damn, I need to start reading the Muggle newspapers again."

"Couldn't hurt," Sir Jacob agreed. "Though I'm not sure how you'd get your hands on them. Do you even have a street address?"

"Probably," Harry said. "Though I've no idea what it is. I can probably find out."

"Your prerogative," Sir Jacob said. "What's your timeline looking like."

"Something is going to happen before the First," Harry said. "Those are my orders from the Minister."

"Well, best of luck to you, then. I'll let my Right Honourable Friend the Prime Minister know that he may need to expect a visit from people in your Ministry. What was that group called? The Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee?"

"The ones that provide the excuses for when a wizard blows up a street or something equally blatantly magical or destructive?"

"Yes, them."

"Yeah, you've got it right. Might want to ask about the Met Office and see if we have any meteor showers forecasted for the next couple weeks."

Sir Jacob chuckled. "I just may do. You have yourself a good evening, milord."

"You too, Sir Jacob. Give Justin my regards." At the older man's nod, Harry rose and exited the office. It was far easier to find a taxi to return him to Charing Cross, though this cabbie was rather perplexed at where Harry asked to be dropped off. He shrugged it off and took the 30 quid anyway, leaving Harry to cautiously make his way back into the Leaky Cauldron and Floo home.

He had letters to write.

* * *

_A/N: And another chapter in the books! I quite liked this one, I found it fun to write (with the exception of the Cockney cabbie, which was made me sick and probably wasn't close to right. I knew I should have made him Pakistani, but oh well.), and I hope you all found it fun to read. Next chapter will be a lot more disjointed than this, basically being a collection of three or four short-to-medium length scenes with linebreaks instead of naps for transitions. Will feature some Knights stuff, the Privy Council, and more sexually ambiguous!Draco. See you all on the 30th!_

_Phoenix II  
_


	19. Chapter 19

A week later found Harry Potter touring the recently-renovated Potter Castle in Devon, soon to be re-named The Pandorica. The Floo address had already been changed, and a Charms Master would be coming to the property to perform the Fidelius Charm and lock the secret away within the Auror who would be the Warden.

Harry was impressed with the work that had been done. The Auror had been set up in the Master Suite, and all the Potter Family belongings had been moved out of the home by the House Elves. All the rooms had been modified in some way or form: the parlours had been converted into meeting rooms to facilitate attorney visits, all the bedrooms had been converted into cells with a chamber pot, a bed, and a table with a pewter plate and a tin cup on it which would provide the prisoners with meals. The house elves had been instructed to only provide simple meals for the prisoners, a task the Head Elf of the Castle – who reminded Harry strongly of Kreacher – was only too happy to agree to. The prisoners, once they arrived, would be fed bologna sandwiches on white bread for lunch and dinner, with a plain bowl of porridge for breakfast, with extremely weak tea to drink for all meals.

The Warden had demonstrated the "door" mechanism for the cells, and Harry had to admit he was pleased. It would take a very powerful wizard to do the kind of wandless transfiguration that would be needed to break out of the prison. Especially since the doors at the end of the corridors were warded to only open for the proper key.

All told, Harry was very pleased with The Pandorica. And eager to start the process of filling it.

* * *

That evening saw Harry in his Ministry office after dinner with his new command team. In addition to himself, he was joined by the Commanders and XOs of his Aurors and Hit-Wizards. He had learned that Hit-Wizards were essentially SWAT-Aurors, which had pleased him.

His Hit-Wizard company was led by Auror Commander Franklin Schmidt, and his XO was Auror Captain Frederick King. Master Auror Mad-Eye Moody led the first company of Aurors, assisted by Senior Auror Gawain Robards. The second Auror company was led by Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, whose 2nd-in-Command was Auror Commander Davis Norman, and the third Auror company was commanded by Auror Captain Edward Mason with 2IC Auror 1st Class Nymphadora Tonks.

For the last hour, they had been poring over architectural plans, personnel rosters, and intelligence reports, planning what Harry had – unoriginally, according to everyone involved – dubbed the August 30 Offensive; that would launch in 4 days. The plan currently called for the Floo Network to be shut down for 'maintenance' at 2 AM, while at that hour across the country, teams of 23 Aurors and/or Hit-Wizards would erect anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards over their targets' properties, then move in and capture or kill the 30 Death Eaters for whom Harry had secured arrest warrants.

Currently, they were planning the assault on Malfoy Manor. Now that Harry had learned how Ministry law enforcement personnel were able to bypass the wards on the Old Manors, he'd been very enthusiastic about taking control of them and their Lords, followed by very thorough searches for Dark artifacts. He'd secured the requisite paperwork for those as well.

"Which group do you think should lead the attack on Malfoy Manor?" Mad-Eye asked, bringing Harry's focus back onto the task at hand.

"Yours," Harry said. "Dear Old Lucy is the most dangerous person on this list. Sure, Bellatrix is insane and Dolohov knows that one nasty curse, but Lucius is the Dark Lord's _de facto_ second-in-command for a reason. Your team has the highest concentration of Hit-Wizards and Auror Firsts and above, plus it's the one I'm going to be accompanying."

"Are you sure about that, sir?" asked Auror King.

"You might say I have a personal investment in Lord Malfoy's disposition," Harry replied. "While I trust Alastor to get the job done, I want to be there myself. Most importantly, I don't want Lucy to have a chance to slip away like he has so often in the past."

"So, given the choice between 'capture', and 'kill'," Tonks started, almost asking Harry.

Harry's eyes flashed a brilliant green before turning hard. "I would prefer 'kill'," he said. "And I want his head in a box to post to the Dark Lord."

"That's just asking for trouble, Potter," Moody growled, trying to calm Harry down. "You provoke Him like that, we'll be deluged by Muggle massacres in broad daylight, like it was in the worst days of the 70s."

Robards, King, and Schmidt shuddered at the thought.

"…OK, maybe that's a bad idea. But if Lucy doesn't turn up at The Pandorica alive, I don't think it'll be that great a loss to the Wizarding world," Harry amended. To this, the most senior Aurors in the room nodded approvingly.

"Alright, once we've got the sodding traitors, what do we do with them?" Robards asked, looking to Harry.

"The current plan is that the Warden of The Pandorica will be waiting at the Ministry for the Auror teams to return with their captives. A Wizengamot judge will be on hand to immediately arraign them and order them remanded to custody. After their wands are taken, the Warden will take them, one at a time, through the Floo to the prison and situate them in their cell," Harry said. "At which point, we start planning on how to secure the trials in between interrogations to try and get more names."

"Trials?" Kingsley asked, seemingly astonished that Harry would still insist on trials for the Death Eaters, given his desire to see Lucius stone dead.

"Of course," Harry said. "But they're not going to be like normal ones in the slightest. I've almost got the format I want hammered out, it'll practically guarantee convictions and turn our dear Marked friends into fonts of information. I just need to work out the appeals process and get it approved by the Privy Council, since the Wizengamot doesn't meet again until December."

"Alright," Moody said. "Now that we've got the attack plan hammered out, what do we do for the next 4 days?"

"Train," Harry said. "Make sure all the team members will be able to communicate with each other during the assault so that the co-ordination doesn't suffer. Practice shield charms and conjuration so you can block the particularly nasty curses."

"Yes sir," replied the Aurors. Harry stalked off. He needed to sleep, but first he needed to send an owl to his fellow Privy Counsellors to arrange a meeting.

* * *

"My Lord Potter, you mentioned you had a proposal for us to consider?" the Queen asked the next afternoon, opening the emergency Magical Privy Council meeting Harry had requested.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Harry replied. "It is my intention, as the Special Deputy Minister for Magic for Security to launch a series of raids early Friday morning in an effort to arrest at least 30 high-level Death Eaters. I have already secured a new prison facility in which to hold them, but with arrest must come trial. A previous Ministry conducted Death Eater trials by Wizengamot tribunal, which appears to have had very little consideration for evidence and testimony and a great deal for bribery. I am determined not to let those who plot Treason slip once again out from between our fingers. To that end, I put forward to you today a proposal for an 18 point trial process specific to Death Eaters. The steps outlined within will, in my view, allow for fair, untainted trials that will determine beyond a reasonable doubt the guilt or innocence of an individual defendant while also providing a true commitment to the rule of law in the Wizarding world, as well as a commitment to civil liberties and due process. I'll stop talking now and let you all read over what I've come up with," he said, passing around a stack of parchment while resuming his seat.

_Process for the Imprisonment and Trial of Captured Death Eaters_

_1. The alleged Death Eater is arrested by Aurors and their wand seized._

_2. The accused is brought before a Lord Justice of the Wizengamot for arraignment, where they are charged and remanded to The Pandorica prison._

_3. The prisoner is escorted to prison by the Warden of The Pandorica, who is the Secret-Keeper for the facility._

_4. The prisoner is placed in solitary confinement._

_5. Any contact with barristers will be handled through the Warden; all meetings will be monitored._

_6. At the time of trial, the accused will be brought directly to the courtroom via secure Floo._

_7. Auror contingents will guard courtrooms. Trials will be closed to all but the participants. Courtrooms will be warded to prevent attacks against judges, jurors, witnesses, attorneys and defendants._

_8. Veritaserum shall be used in the questioning of all defendants and witnesses. If a defendant or witness is a registered Occlumens, an Unbreakable Vow shall be used to ensure the telling of the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth._

_9. All jurors will swear a Wizard's Oath to not accept payment of any sort to affect the outcome of the trial._

_10. In the event of a mistrial, the accused will be returned to prison while a new trial is arranged._

_11. If a defendant is found not guilty, they will be returned their wand and released._

_12. If a defendant is found guilty, he or she will be returned to prison to either begin serving his or her sentence or to await execution. His or her wand will be snapped upon conviction._

_13. If sentenced to execution, the convict will be given the choice of being sent through the Veil of Death, being burned at the stake, or being beheaded._

_14. Once the convict has made his or her choice, sentence must be carried out within 24 hours of the end of the appeals process._

_15. Appeals may be made to the Privy Council for Magic. To file an appeal, a barrister may submit a brief detailing the case for the appeal to the Office of the Minister for Magic._

_16. Appeals may only be filed in the week (7 days) following the conclusion of the trial._

_17. The Privy Council for Magic will meet to consider the brief. They may commute the sentence, order a new trial, or reject the appeal in full._

_18. The decision of the Privy Council for Magic shall be final._

The first questions all dealt with the Magical terms in the document. Harry, Hermione, Percy and Amos explained to the Prime Minister, Sir Jacob and the Queen what Veritaserum, Unbreakable Vows, Wizard's Oaths and the Veil of Death all were.

"Why burning at the stake?" Sir Jacob asked. "Surely there are more…humane ways to execute a witch or wizard?"

"That's why the Veil is an option," Harry said. "Save the Avada Kedavra curse, which is illegal, the Veil is the most humane option of the three. I could have put 'be fed to a dragon' on there, but that seems even more cruel and unusual."

"Why is execution even an option?" asked the Prime Minister. "Surely you have more confidence in your new, 'secure' prison than that, Lord Potter?"

Harry bristled at the implication in the man's question, but forced himself to be calm before he answered. "As I understand it, Prime Minister, treason is still punishable by execution even in the Muggle world," he replied coolly.

"There is talk within Parliament of removing even that provision," the Prime Minister shot back. "Especially within the Labour Party."

"What Tony Blair may or may not do as Prime Minister isn't my concern," Harry retorted. "I think you would be hard pressed to find a single non-Death Eater witch or wizard in Britain that doesn't think the death penalty is too harsh a sentence for those who follow Mister Riddle."

"What about the provision you have in there for the administration of an Unbreakable Vow for witnesses?" Amos asked. "Surely that's a bit excessive?"

"You can blame Madame Umbridge for that one, Minister," Harry said, subconsciously squeezing his right hand, which still bore the inscription '_I must not tell lies_.' "She made it something of a priority during the last school year to … impose upon me the virtue of honesty. If a Death Eater thinks they will be able to lie about being under the Imperius Curse like Lucius Malfoy did in the 80s and get away with it this go 'round, they have another thing coming."

The debate continued on for half an hour, mostly centered on how to punish those convicted and not sentenced to die. Harry argued in favour of long-term sentences of solitary confinement, and was supported by Amos and Percy, while Hermione, Sir Jacob and the Prime Minister favoured long-term sentences of hard labour, as solitary confinement would be "detrimental to the psyche" of the Death Eaters.

Finally, the Queen interjected herself into the argument, surprisingly in favour of Harry's side.

"One agrees with Lord Potter that the psychological well-being while imprisoned of those who believe it a good idea to rape and murder while enslaved to a madman should be the very last concern of any of us here. With luck, they will find a way to depart this world soon thereafter. Are there any other questions for Lord Potter to answer, or shall we proceed to a vote?"

No further questions were forthcoming, and the vote commenced. Hearing the Queen come down in favour of Harry's position, only the Prime Minister and Hermione voted against the 18-step process. With a 4-2 vote, the Queen gave her assent and just like that Harry Potter had his court system. Now everything was in place.

Or so he thought.

* * *

It goes without saying that Harry was not expecting to be dive-bombed at 3 AM by an excited-looking owl.

Especially not by an excited-looking owl bearing a letter from Messrs. Fred and George Weasley.

Especially not by an excited-looking owl bearing a letter from Messrs. Fred and George Weasley informing him that the prototype Shield Charm Gauntlets were ready and he should get his arse to the shop first thing in the morning to see them (and pony up the first thousand Galleons).

In fact, Harry was so not expecting to be dive-bombed at 3 AM by an excited-looking owl bearing a letter from Messrs. Fred and George Weasley informing him that the prototype Shield Charm Gauntlets were ready and he should get his arse to the shop first thing in the morning to see them (and pony up the first thousand Galleons) that after reading the letter, he promptly dropped it on his bedside table and fell back to sleep.

Of course, it was also the first thing he noticed when he woke up again (at seven), and remembering as he read that he'd also read this four hours previously shocked him into motion. Before Draco and Narcissa were even awake, Harry had showered, dressed, and Flooed directly into the Twins' apartment above their shop.

"Good morning, gents!" Harry enthusiastically greeted the two redheads, who didn't even look up from their breakfast at his entrance. He pouted.

"Well, that's no way to greet someone who wants to hand over a big chunk of gold to you," he added. At the mention of gold, predictably, the inventors' ears perked up and they looked over at the intruder.

"Harry!" Fred exclaimed, looking up.

"So nice of you –"

"–to drop in at such –"

" –an early time of day –"

" –just to see little old us!" they finished in unison, grinning as Harry's eyes had flicked back and forth between the two like he was watching a tennis match.

"Again with the bloody twinspeak," Harry groused. "You mentioned something about our little project?"

"Yes!" both exclaimed.

"We think we've finally got it working," George said. "Come with us, we'll show you." Harry followed the Twins downstairs and into their storage room/laboratory. In the middle of the room was a pair of what appeared to be large, gilded wristbands with a gem in the centre. It looked like a diamond or a pearl, from what Harry could see.

"Ta-da!" Fred said. "The prototypes of the Shield Bands. Slip 'em on, Harry, and we'll show you how they work."

George came over and slid the bands over Harry's lower arms. He felt a tingle as they settled into place. The Twins grinned.

"Excellent, they're bonding to your magic."

"Huh?" Harry asked. "Bonding to my magic?"

"Yeah," George said. "They've got to draw the initial energy from somewhere, after all. Don't worry, they don't drain much, considering."

"How do they work, then?" Harry asked, as Fred drew his wand and fired off a _Reducto_. As it neared Harry, a shield appeared in front of him and absorbed the curse. The gem on the left-hand side band glowed the same colour as the curse as the shield dissipated.

"Why'd it glow?" Harry asked.

"Ah, noticed that, did you?" Fred asked. "Remember how I said the bands draw their initial energy from you?" Harry nodded. "After the first shield, they're mostly powered by the curses they take. It's like a circuit, the band throws up the shield, which absorbs the curse, the energy of which is absorbed into the band and redirected back out into the shield. Guaranteed to absorb and redirect everything but the Avada Kedavra."

"Fascinating," Harry said. "And they're well tested?"

"Oh yeah. What do you think we were doing up so late last night?" George replied. "Just take a look at that dummy over there." Harry's gaze followed where George's finger pointed, and he saw a scorched battle dummy in a corner.

"Avada Kedavra on something that's not alive?" Harry asked, and Fred nodded. "Burnt out the gem in the bands and did a number on the dummy too."

"I can see that. So, a thousand Galleons, right?" Harry asked, just for confirmation, pulling out his chequebook. The Twins nodded in agreement, and Harry quickly wrote out the payment. He kept on the bands.

"If you can have me another two pairs ready by the 31st, I'll give you a 500 Galleon bonus," he said.

"We'll get right on it," Fred promised.

"Good doing business with you, gentlemen," Harry replied, grinning as he left the shop and headed home.

* * *

That afternoon, Harry completed his armour. It took three hours and a copious amount of cursing, but before dinner Harry stood in Chinese Fireball dragonhide chest armour and short pants, both of which connected to metal armour for Harry's shoulders, arms and legs. His sword was buckled around the midsection, a scarlet coloured cape billowed out behind him, and a helm with a crimson plume was held in the crook of his left arm.

"Fuckin' Hell, you look good," Draco told him from his vantage point against the door.

"Shut it," Harry warned him, though he did conjure a mirror and spent a few moments looking approvingly at the image he was shown. "Like a man in uniform, do you?"

"Doesn't everybody?" Draco asked in return. "Going to look real pretty with that on when you go charging into the homes of petrified Death Eaters."

"Good, easier to kill 'em that way," Harry replied, putting on the helm and drawing his sword, going through a practice kata to verify that he had full range of motion in the armour.

"Isn't it going to be rather difficult to take on and off, though?" Draco asked. In response, Harry scrunched up his face like he'd sucked on a lemon, and with a pop, he was wearing shorts and a tee shirt.

"How?" Draco asked, mouth gaping in astonishment.

"Switching Spell," Harry replied with a grin. Draco shook his head.

"Come on, Potter. Let's get some food." Harry agreed and the two set off for the dining room, while Harry ticked down the hours until the 30th in his head. He was looking very forward to ridding the world of Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

_A/N: Well? What do y'all think about this one? It was hard to write, but I'm more or less satisfied with it. Ch. 20 is all about the 30 August Offensive, and will feature the deaths of some important Death Eaters, a talk with Voldemort, and another press conference. I'm working on ch. 21 right now, which will be bringing everybody back to Hogwarts to start the new school year. I'll be posting ch. 20 on 10 July, maybe a little later in the day than usual since there is a chance I will be hungover after celebrating my birthday the day before._

_Cheers!_


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: So here is this weeks' chapter, which I am posting with a slight headache that may or may not be related to the drinks I had last night. As such, any spelling errors in here are not likely to be corrected, as I can't be bothered to do much more than a cursory read-through at the moment. More notes and the preview for next chapter after this one.

* * *

_

Harry walked into the Ministry in full armour shortly after 1:30 AM on August 30th and made his way quickly to his War Room, where his commanders were already in their own battle gear.

"Looking sharp, milord," Kingsley said. Harry grinned.

"We ready?" he asked.

"All teams are ready and are standing by for departure. The portkeys are scheduled to activate in ten minutes," Tonks reported.

"The warden of The Pandorica is downstairs in the DMLE just waiting for us to start bringing him prisoners," Moody said. "And we've got three Lord Justices waiting in the courtrooms downstairs for arraignment."

"Excellent!" Harry exclaimed. "Team leaders have their search and arrest warrants?" he asked, and Auror Robards nodded. "We've got Amos' order to shut down the Floo Network?"

"Came in an hour ago, boss," Auror King said, holding a piece of parchment.

"Excellent. Moody, Kingsley, you're with me. We're going to shut it down now, watch while they do it and take them out of the room so they don't get a chance to warn anybody," Harry said, taking the order from King. Moody and Kingsley fell in behind him as he walked to the Office of the Floo Network Authority, which at this time of night was only staffed by a lone wizard.

"Sh-Shut down the Network?" the man asked after Harry handed him the order. "Um…I'm not sure how, milord," he stammered.

"Well, best figure it out quick, lad, ye've only got 5 minutes before we shut it down ourselves however we can," Moody said, sending the stammering man running for his training manual. Thirty seconds later, the Floo Network was disabled.

"Good man," Harry said. "Now, you get the rest of the night off. Come with us, please," he said, beckoning the wizard to follow them out, which he was quick to do. Harry locked the office behind him with a spell that only he would be able to remove.

"Now, let's get to our Portkeys," Harry said. He, Moody and Kingsley made their way to the staging area for the assault, where Kingsley spit off to head his group while Moody and Harry joined another group. Each member of the assault team was touching a length of rope, as were all the other teams.

"3…2…1...0," Moody counted down, and at zero Harry felt the signature hook behind his navel that signaled the Portkey's activation, and the entire team was whisked away to Wiltshire.

Immediately following the team's landing, five of the Aurors Disapparated to the other side of the wards and began casting anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards. Three more pulled out broomsticks and took to the sky, and the rest followed Harry and Moody to the gate, where a muttered spell from Moody and the touch of an Auror's badge opened the wrought iron and admitted the assault team. They walked up the path to the front door, wands out and ready.

"AURORS, OPEN UP!" Moody shouted once they reached the front door, knocking loudly. When nobody answered, the Aurors shot a _Bombarda_ at the door and ran in through the resulting hole.

"Malfoy's bedroom is on the second floor," Moody told the team. "Potter, Young, Grey, you come with me. The rest of you, start searching the place." The Aurors nodded, and two of them followed Harry and Moody to the staircase. They advanced slowly, eyes darting around, looking for any movement at the top of the stairs.

"_Crucio!_" The spell came out of nowhere, it seemed, and struck Grey, who immediately dropped screaming. Casting a shield charm, Harry stepped into the path of the spell, wincing as some of the curse slipped through and hit him. Young helped the shaking Grey to his feet while Moody cast a series of curses at where the Cruciatus had originated from. They connected and dislodged an invisibility cloak from Lucius Malfoy. Angry, Harry stormed up the stairs to confront the Malfoy Head.

"Morning, Lucy," he sneered, firing a Reductor Curse at Malfoy's feet, sending him scurrying back. "You weren't thinking of going anywhere, were you?"

"Potter!" Malfoy sneered. "Ministry's gotten so desperate they're sending kids out to do their dirty work?"

"Oh, not at all," Harry replied calmly. "I volunteered to come on this one. You won't be leaving here alive, Lucy." After saying this, Harry had to quickly duck an Avada Kedavra that was thrown at him by an enraged, and panicked, Lucius.

"Resorting to Unforgivables so quickly? Shame, Lucius. Of course, I've known for a long time that you have no concept of honour, but for you to demonstrate it so readily is really quite depressing." A blood-boiling curse was intercepted by his shield bands, as were three Reductors, a bone-breaking hex, and a Disemboweling Curse. Harry stood his ground and allowed his shields to protect him.

"FIGHT BACK, POTTER!" Lucius shouted as he unleashed another spell chain which Harry simply shielded from.

"Ah, but why would I do that when I can simply stand here and wait for you to magically exhaust yourself before I kill you?" Harry asked. "There's simply no point for me to waste my time and energy shooting spells at you."

A summoned chair fell victim to Lucius' next Killing Curse, exploding into splinters as it was hit. Harry grinned as Lucius began to tire.

"Really, Lucy, I expected better from the Dark Lord's Second-in-Command," Harry said in a disappointed tone. "You're boring me. A stunningly bland performance on your part, you've not even shot anything particularly Dark at me. I could find all these spells in textbooks."

"_SECUTUMSEMPRA!_" Malfoy shouted, and Harry blinked in confusion as his shield absorbed the curse.

"That's new," he remarked. "What's that one do, then?"

"Dark Cutting Curse," Moody remarked from behind him. "Lost my leg to that one, really nasty piece of spellwork."

"Hm," Harry remarked. "Good to know, I suppose. Got anything else, Lucy, or can I kill you now?"

"Jumped-up Half-blood," Lucius snarled. "You really are an arrogant whelp, just like Severus always says."

"Yup, jumped-up and arrogant, that's me," Harry said proudly. "But I have to take issue with the half-blood remark, that's just un-called for. The half-blood's your Master, Lucy. I'm the result of a witch and a wizard doing the horizontal tango without protection, old Mr. Riddle's mum was a Squib who bewitched a Muggle with a love potion until he knocked her up. You really did pick the wrong side, Lucy. Shame you won't have a chance to correct that. Oh well. I'll just re-programme Draco and Narcissa and call it good."

"So, you're the one those blood-traitors ran off to?" Lucius asked.

"Oh yes. Head of the Black family, and all. They're actually doing quite well, Draco and Narcissa Black. Much happier than they ever were as members of your reprobate family. Time for you to go, I think, Lucius. Any last words?"

"Fuck you, Potter," Lucius snarled, shooting one last Avada Kedavra which Harry blocked with a conjured brick wall. Re-drawing his wand, he aimed at the exhausted Lucius.

"Expelliarmus." Lucius' wand flew out of his grasp. Harry Summoned it and snapped it in two. "Remind me to get the rest of the pimp cane before we leave," he told Mad-Eye, who nodded in amusement.

"Diffindo!" the arm bearing Lucius' Dark Mark was severed at the elbow, dropping the blond aristocrat to his knees with a prolonged, agonised scream of pain as he cradled the stump.

"Incarcerous!" Lucius was bound in thick ropes. Harry put his wand away and drew his sword.

"I should have done this when you first disowned Draco, but I must confess it had slipped my mind. See, you're the last member of the House of Malfoy right now, Lucy. When you die, unless I do what I'm about to do, all the Malfoy property and money in Gringotts will sit unclaimed. But I think I want it all instead, so…" Harry drew himself up. "I, Lord Harry James Potter, Viscount and Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, Baron and Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, do declare Blood Feud with the Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy in presence of Witness Alastor Moody. Upon satisfaction of the Blood Feud, the assets of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy shall transfer to my ownership by Right of Conquest. So Mote it Be!" A deep red glow emanated briefly from Harry and Lucius as Magic acknowledged the Blood Feud between the two families.

"This is going to be the shortest Blood Feud in recorded history, I think," Harry commented to Moody as he walked over to Lucius, sword ready to strike. "Bye bye, Lucy." He swung, and separated Lucius Malfoy's head from the rest of his body. As the corpse toppled over, Harry gave it a swift kick.

"One down, 99 to go," he remarked, looking back at Moody, who nodded approvingly. Harry went over and picked up Lucius' head by the hair.

"Now, what do we do with this?" he asked. "I'm tempted to transfigure it into a Quaffle or something, but I suppose we could stick it on a pike too." Instead, Moody conjured a box and handed it to Harry.

"You'll need to show this to the goblins as proof of your Conquest of the Malfoy Family," the old Auror remarked. "Take his signet ring, too." Grabbing the severed arm, Harry pulled the large ring off the hand and put it in the box as well. A casket was conjured for Lucius, a stasis charm was placed on his body and arm and both were placed inside. Harry shrunk the casket and put it in the box.

"Now, where do you reckon the rest of the pimp cane is?" Harry asked, and Moody chuckled.

"His bedroom, if I had to hazard a guess." They walked there and sure enough the walking stick part of the cane was lying against the wall next to the door. Reattaching the two pieces, Harry grinned at his newest acquisition.

"Should we see what the search party has managed to find?" he asked, walking out of the bedroom.

They were met in the Entry Hall by a pile of Dark or cursed objects, as well as entire shelves of books from the Malfoy Library.

"Put those back," he ordered, indicating the books.

"Sir?" asked an Auror.

"Those are mine, Auror," Harry replied. "Put them back." It took Mad-Eye's confirmation of his statement and order for the Aurors to comply, but eventually they did, leaving only objects and potions.

"Incinerate them," Harry said. "We can't arrest Lucy anymore, seeing as he's dead, so the evidentiary value of these things is zero. Just get rid of them." The Aurors complied, and soon Harry was staring at a pile of ash in the Entry Hall, which was soon Vanished.

"Bring me the head House Elf," Harry said, and soon an Auror appeared escorting a grubby-looking elf in a pillowcase, reminding Harry strongly of how Dobby had looked before he had freed him.

"The Head Elf, milord," the Auror said.

"Lord Malfoy is dead," Harry told the creature. "I have absorbed his estate through Conquest. You are now Potter Family House Elves. I expect you to acquire the proper uniform as soon as you can and to take care of this estate as you have been. If you have any questions on what I expect from you and any other elves here, you may speak with my head elf Tilly." The elf nodded and disappeared.

"Alright, now let's fix the door and go home." The Aurors enthusiastically set about this task, and soon Malfoy Manor was empty. They returned to the Ministry to find they were the last team back.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked the other team commanders.

"Fantastic!" Tonks said. "We got Dolohov really quick, first team back. Took him to Lord Justice White and he's awaiting transport to The Pandorica."

"Why isn't he there already?" Harry asked.

"You shut off the Floo," Tonks reminded him.

"D'oh!" Harry said. "Well, where are our fishies then?"

"Stunned and bound in holding cells in the DMLE. If you would be so kind as to go and open the Floo again, that'd be great," Tonks told him.

"How many are there?"

"26. Along with Lucius, the LeStranges were also killed." Harry sighed with relief.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "The 4 biggest threats in the D.E. arsenal wiped out. Alright, let's re-open the Floo so we can get the scum to their new homes and then so the rest of you can go rest."

"Yes sir," Tonks said with a grin, following Harry to the Floo Network office, which he unlocked and opened for them to enter. Seeing that the worker they had run out earlier had left the training manual he'd used to shut off the Floo open on a desk. It didn't take Harry long to find the spell to re-open the Floo Network, and Tonks ran off to find The Pandorica's Warden as soon as he did.

Back at his own office, he was met by Moody.

"How many did we lose?" he asked the old Auror.

"Five killed, 30 wounded, almost all from the groups assigned to the LeStranges," Mad-Eye replied. "Though one of the dead was assigned to Dolohov's capture team."

Harry sighed. "How serious are the injuries?"

"Rather," Moody said. "We might lose a few more before the morning, but the Healers should be able to save most of them. We did very good. His Snakeyness will not be pleased with this, not one bit."

"That's great," Harry said. "Press conference tomorrow for the announcement?" he asked.

"Probably. Just come in at 10," Moody advised. "I'll brief Amos when he comes in."

"Alright. G'night, Mad-Eye."

"G'night, Potter," Mad-Eye replied, and a very tired Harry Potter made his way back to Potter Manor, where 1 Switching Spell later he was falling into his bed and immediately going to sleep. His dreams that night were full of Draco thanking him profusely for getting rid of Lucius, and Hermione fussing over him thanks to imagined injuries.

He woke up with a start at a little past 8 AM thanks to a surge of anger coming through the link he shared with Voldemort.

_Potter!_ Harry heard the sickening shouts of the Dark Lord in his head, _I am going to KILL YOU!_

_Good morning, Traitor,_ Harry thought back. _Is there any particular reason you deigned to interrupt my well-earned sleep to repeat the same rubbish threat you've failed to carry out five times now?_

_Fuck you, Potter! What have you done to my Inner Circle?_

_I haven't done a thing,_ Harry thought back, _except in the case of Lucy. I killed him nice and dead, and took his money, belongings, and pimp cane._

_Then what happened to the rest of them, you impertinent brat?_ Tom was very much displeased with Harry's dancing around the issue.

_Eh, if you can get your scaley hands on a wireless, I'll tell you in two hours. Now fuck off and let me sleep._ Voldemort reluctantly did so, and Harry fell back to sleep, awakening again shortly after nine at the insistence of his house-elf cook, who was eager to force breakfast into him.

He walked back into the Ministry just before ten, and was immediately escorted to the press briefing room, where a gaggle of reporters was once again waiting for him. He was pleased to note that there was a microphone from the Wizarding Wireless Network present to broadcast his remarks.

"Good morning, everybody," he said. "I suppose you're all very interested in why I'm here talking to you lot when I should probably be packing to head back to school, but I've got good news to pass along. Early this morning, strike teams of Aurors and Hit-Wizards attached to the Office of the Special Deputy Minister for Security raided the homes of 30 known Death Eaters, whose identities were provided to us by two confidential informants. These teams were executing search warrants and arrest warrants provided by a Lord Justice of the Wizengamot, and 26 of the 30 teams succeeded in arresting some of the most dangerous members of Tom Riddle's little terrorist group. Shortly after their arrests, they were brought before a judge and arraigned, and all were remanded to Ministry custody and transported to our new prison facility. The four teams who did not end up making arrests did one better and killed their targets. I'm pleased to report that Lord Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix LeStrange, Rodolphus LeStrange, and Rabastan LeStrange are no longer amongst the living. Those who survived are awaiting trials, which will be conducted through a process approved by the Magical Privy Council earlier this week. Does anybody have any questions?"

"Who killed Malfoy?" one reporter asked.

"I did," Harry said simply. "To satisfy a Blood Feud between the House of Potter and the House of Malfoy, which I will be dissolving later today after arranging for the absorption of all Malfoy properties and monies into the Potter holdings thanks to the Right of Conquest."

"Who killed the LeStranges?" another reporter asked.

"Not me," Harry said. "I have yet to read the after-action reports from those Auror teams, but whoever did us the favor will be substantially rewarded."

"What are your plans for rounding up the rest of the Death Eaters?" the _Daily Prophet_'s reporter asked.

"We will be interrogating the captured Death Eaters during their trials in the hopes of finding out the identities of the remaining followers of Mr. Riddle," Harry said. "Once we have names, it's just a matter of obtaining warrants and arresting those identified."

"What is this trial process you mentioned earlier?" another reporter asked.

"Good question," Harry replied. "To answer, it's basically a more secure version of your normal criminal trial, albeit with mandatory use of Veritaserum and/or Unbreakable Vows to guarantee truthful answers from all witnesses and defendants. The courtrooms will be warded and guarded by Aurors, and the jurors will be bound by Wizard's Oaths to not accept any sort of influence that may sway their vote on the case. Defendants will be allowed defence counsel, and barristers employed by the DMLE will prosecute the cases. There will be no meddling by the Office of the Minister or my Office."

"Will you be seeking the death penalty for the Death Eaters?" the _Prophet_'s reporter asked.

"Yes," Harry replied. "Execution is still a punishment option for those who commit High Treason in the United Kingdom, and I believe the world will be a better place without the Death Eaters in it. Those convicted of treason and sentenced to death will be given the choice of beheading, being sent through the Veil of Death downstairs in the Department of Mysteries, or being burned at the stake."

"Why not the Dementor's Kiss?" a different reporter asked.

"Because I hate, and do not trust one bit, Dementors," Harry replied. "Plus, I find the concept of having your soul sucked out by a Dark Creature to be cruel and unusual punishment. Next question."

"When do you anticipate the trials starting?"

"As soon as those arrested can have legal counsel arranged for them and a defence prepared," Harry replied. "Probably not before December, though, considering. Last question."

"Do you have a message for the Dark Lord?" a reporter asked. Harry paused, gripping the sides of the lectern.

"I'd say to him that it's all downhill from here," he started. "And that it his defeat is inevitable. If he has a shred of decency left in his conjured body, he'll give up the ghost, instruct his remaining Death Eaters to surrender to the Aurors and immolate himself in public, because I will kill him otherwise. The Ministry of Magic is not as weak as he thinks, and Wizarding Britain will not stand for his campaign of terror. We're not French, after all." Chuckles accompanied the end of his statement.

"Thank you, everybody. That's all for today." The reporters disseminated and Harry left the press briefing room. As he entered the hallway, he heard Voldemort in his head once more.

_Nice speech, Potter, but it was no "Keep Calm and Carry On" and you're definitely no George VI._

_Fuck off, Tom. All you're doing is dating yourself by relating your tales of the War._

_I will conquer, Potter!_ Voldemort shouted in his mind. _I will conquer, and kill you when you kneel before me begging for mercy!_

_You will not, and I would never,_ Harry shot back. _I don't suppose there's any chance of you doing as you're told and handing over your fellow traitors, is there?_

_You're damn right there's not, you insolent brat. And I will get my Inner Circle out of Azkaban, too!_

_No you won't, because they're not there,_ Harry retorted. _I wouldn't trust Azkaban to hold a fly. Now fuck off and go practice your evil villain routine in the mirror, if you can stomach the sight of yourself._ With a grimace, Harry shoved the Dark Lord's annoying voice out of his mind, and continued on down the hallway. He needed to get to Gringotts. There was probably going to be an inordinate amount of paperwork involved in what he had to do.

Sighing, he headed for the Floo access.

* * *

_A/N: And there we go, another chapter in the books. Hope you enjoyed Lucius' death, as well as that of the LeStranges. I had them all killed because I'm tired of stories that paint Aurors as cannon fodder who are killed as easily as you or I swat flies, so I wanted to portray them as effective at their jobs, which is capturing (and in some cases, killing) Dark Wizards, with minimal losses. Next chapter features the gang's return to Hogwarts, along with a discussion about Harry's method of changing clothes and a chat with Dumbledore._

_See you all on the 20th! Please remember to review, and let me know what you thought of this (and any other) chapter!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	21. Chapter 21

Two days after Harry stood before the assembled press and announced the capture of 26 Inner Circle Death Eaters and the death of 4 others, he and Draco made their way onto Platform 9 ¾, which was rather conspicuously guarded by Aurors and MLEP Constables.

"You're sitting with me," Harry informed Draco as they got on the train. "I'm not letting you out of my sight until it's absolutely necessary."

"I can defend myself, Potter," Draco snapped back. "I'm not as useless as the rest of that bunch."

"Still, I don't fancy having to explain to your mother why you're in the Hospital Wing before classes even begin. And I don't care how good you think you are, you couldn't defeat your entire House all by yourself."

"Well then what's your plan, Potter?" Draco asked as they boarded the train and sought a compartment near the front.

"You said you have a private room, right?" Harry asked.

"I did," Draco said. "I'm not sure if I still do, since I'm no longer a Malfoy."

"Hm. That could be a problem," Harry said. "We'll talk to Professor Dumbledore after the Feast, then, see if we can sort it out. The plan is: get you an entrance to your room that doesn't involve you having to go through the Slytherin Common Room."

"That's it?" Draco asked, clearly unimpressed.

"The Muggles have a saying about plans," Harry said. "They call it KISS: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Simple plans are easier to remember and harder to bollocks up."

Draco simply raised an eyebrow at him. "You're going to get me killed, Potter," he muttered.

"Oh, shut up," Harry said as the two flopped down across from each other in their chosen compartment. "It'll work."

"Whatever," Draco said, fishing his History book out of his satchel and beginning to read. It wasn't much longer before Ron and Hermione stopped by to save themselves seats before heading for the Prefect's Meeting – which Draco was dragged along to – and then for Neville to turn up looking for a place to sit.

"We've got room," Harry told him. "Draco, Hermione and Ron are at the Prefect's Meeting right now, but they'll probably be back soon. Neville took a seat next to Harry.

"You're calling him Draco now?"

"It's a work in progress," Harry said. "But I told Lucius just before I killed him that I would be re-programming Draco and his mum, and it's actually going rather well. He's actually managed to have a civil conversation with Hermione."

"You're joking," Neville said.

"I am not," Harry replied. "Between me and Great-Grandfather George, we're making inroads into the blood-purity nonsense Lucius hammered into his brain for the first fifteen years of his life."

"Who's Great-Grandfather George?" Neville asked.

"George Potter," Harry said. "He's just a portrait now, but he was Head of the Family in the early 1900s. Between him and Rigel Black, they came up with a bloodline chart that was inclusive towards Muggleborns instead of disdainful and exclusive. Did you know I'm a pureblood?"

"You are?" Neville asked, confused.

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning a mad grin. "At least, by Great-Grandfather George's standards. Mum was what he called 'first-generation' pureblood."

"That…makes sense, I suppose," Neville said. "But then, doesn't that mean there aren't half-bloods?"

"No, there are still half-bloods, if a magical child results from a marriage between a pureblood and a complete Muggle," Harry said. "Have you read _Pureblood Politics_?" he asked, digging around in his satchel for the book his great-grandfather had written.

"Um, Gran made me when I was ten," Neville admitted. "But I don't remember most of it, especially not anything about bloodlines."

"Here, then," Harry said, handing over the book. "It's chapter three."

Neville was still reading when Ron, Hermione, and Draco returned. Ron was looking rather out of sorts, Hermione looked reproachful, and Draco looked smug.

"Do I even want to know?" Harry asked, giving his friends a suffering look.

"They re-arranged the patrol schedules for Prefects," Hermione told him. "They're trying to minimise the potential for bias playing into decisions taken by Prefects on how to deduct points from offenders from other Houses. Ron and I were each assigned a Prefect from a different house to partner with to make rounds. He got Hannah Abbott, I got Draco."

"Well, that's brilliant," Harry said. Ron shot him a Look. "What?" Harry asked.

"It's NOT brilliant!" Ron protested. "Merlin only knows what he'll do to her!"

"Well, I think Draco would also know, considering he'd be the one doing it," Harry pointed out. "Draco, I think this is the point where you calm Ron down by telling him the only thing you'd do to Hermione is gossip about how shaggable I look in my armour?"

"Shut up, you prat," Draco said, shooting Harry a Look. "And don't ruin my fun agitating Weasley. It's pretty much the only thing I've got left."

"Yes, but I've got better things to do with my time than to listen to Ron whinge for hours on end about how annoying you are," Harry said. "Surely you understand my predicament."

"Can I at least still make fun of him for being ginger?" Draco asked. Ron looked ready to hex him. Draco huffed.

"Bloody stuck-up ginger git," he muttered, crossing his arms and pouting. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, now that you're back, Ron, I have something here for you and Nev," he said, reaching into his satchel once again and pulling out the two pairs of Shield Bands the Twins had made for him.

"Wow," Neville said, taking his pair and examining them curiously. "What're these, Harry?"

"Shield Bands," Harry said, pulling back his sleeves to reveal his own. "You slip 'em on over your forearms like so, wait until the tingling stops, and then I'll finish setting them up." Both boys did, and shivered a little at the tingling sensation on their arms.

"What is this?" Ron asked.

"They're bonding to your magic," Harry said. "Making a link so they can draw power from your magical core, kind of like your wand does when you fire a spell, but these will only need to draw that power once."

"Why's that?" Neville asked.

"Because when the tingling stops, I'm going to curse you. When I do, you need to yell out the incantation for the Shield Charm. Your shield will come from the bands, powered by your magic, and absorb my curse. After it does that, the curses that the shield absorbs will be the source of its power," Harry explained, trying to reassure Neville who had paled at Harry cavalierly saying that he would be cursing the other two Gryffindors. "It works really well. I didn't even break a sweat in my fight with Lucius thanks to these babies."

"Who made them?" Hermione asked, curiously. "Whoever did's a genius, using that crystal as a magical focus. It's almost like a shield emitter from _Star Trek._" Harry grinned.

"Close, except scaled down and probably not resistant to phaser fire," he said. "Fred and George made these for the Knights, so we don't have to worry about being cursed by Death Eaters when we're closing to try and separate them from their heads."

"My tingling's stopped," Ron said. Harry pulled his wand and took aim.

"Ready, Ron? Remember, _Protego_ as soon as I cast," Harry reminded his best friend. "_Reducto!_"

"_Protego!_" Ron shouted, and the shield snapped up just in time to absorb the Reductor Curse. A sound like a gong was heard and everybody in the compartment felt a brief buildup of pressure in their eardrums before things calmed down.

"Hey, this gem glowed the colour of your curse!" Ron exclaimed. "Cool!"

"Yeah, it does that," Harry said. It took another few moments for Neville to be ready, something Harry was rather intrigued by, given the Prophecy he had heard at the beginning of the summer. He knew Neville's birthday was a day before his, which meant that his shy friend might be just as powerful as he was, even if he didn't know it.

"Alright, Neville, same as with Ron. Draco, if you could cast the spell, that would probably be better, since you're furthest from him," Harry said. Draco pulled his wand and cast a _Reducto_ at Neville, who shielded even quicker than Ron had. There was a similar reaction, including the uncomfortable pressure Hermione equated to take-off on an aeroplane.

They spent the next part of the trip to Hogwarts talking about Harry's plans for rounding up the Death Eaters, and what he'd done so far. Ron was rather impressed with his idea to create a new prison, and Hermione was impressed at all the magic that went into the security.

"Harry?" Neville asked, roughly around the time they crossed into Scotland, "Do you know who killed the LeStranges yet?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, quite brilliantly, in reply. "Um, it was a group of Auror Firsts, I don't know their names. They're down for Order of Merlin, Second Class."

"You can't imagine how relieved Gran and I were to hear that they were dead," Neville said. "Even though Mum and Dad will probably never recover, at least the foul creatures who did that to them are dead. You can probably expect an invitation to our Winter Ball for masterminding that. If you can get the names of the Aurors involved, I'm sure Gran will want to invite them too, as well as send them thank-you cards and gifts of gratitude."

Harry groaned at the mention of a ball, while Draco sniggered.

"Going to have to get you laid and find you a girl, Potter. At least now you have a goal for the term," the blond said. Hermione blushed, and Ron grinned.

"Oh go on, Harry," Ron said. "You know half the girls in Hogwarts would drop their knickers for you in half a second flat if you asked. Maybe even a few blokes, too. Have you ever noticed the way Seamus eyes you sometimes?"

"No, Ron, I haven't, now drop it," Harry said, clearly uncomfortable with the discussion.

"Finnegan? Really?" Draco asked, looking at Ron. "I thought he was shagging that boy that's obsessed with that stupid football team."

"Dean?" Ron asked. "Nah, that one's making moves on my sister," he said, scowling. "Ugh, he'd better not succeed in them, either, that's one topic of conversation I don't want to hear come up in the dorm."

"What, how Weaselette's bits are?" Draco asked, completely oblivious to the look of rage on Ron's face when he did so. "Please don't put those images in my head, I'd hate to have to vomit all over the compartment." Ron turned a bit green himself at the thought, and backed off.

"You should be careful of a couple of the fourth years, though, Harry," Neville said. "Romilda Vane's been conspiring to get in your trousers since the day she arrived at Hogwarts. Hell, even Hannah's said she wouldn't mind a go at you," he added, referring to his girlfriend.

"And what did you say?" Hermione asked, sounding scandalised that a Hufflepuff would entertain notions of cheating on her boyfriend.

"That all things considered, I couldn't blame her. Harry's a fit bloke, Hermione. I'm sure you've noticed." Harry noticed that Hermione turned a very bright red and muttered something that sounded like 'preposterous.' Harry grinned and flexed his muscles in a very exaggerated fashion while screwing up his face into an expression that made him look constipated, which made everyone in the compartment laugh.

"You like that, baby?" he asked Hermione in a low, husky voice. She smacked his arm, while Draco and Ron batted their eyelashes at him.

"Oh, _Harry!_" Ron said in a breathy voice, putting a hand on his forehead and pretending to swoon. "You're so _manly_!"

Draco imitated him, adding "You make me _tingly_, Mr. Potter!"

"Stop it, both of you," Harry said. "We need to get changed into robes."

"No, _we_ need to get changed into robes," Draco said. "_You_ are probably planning to just do a Switching Spell and make the rest of us look like First Years." Hermione looked at him with a curious expression, and Neville and Ron eyed him skeptically. Harry, for his part, concentrated and with a pop, he was wearing his Hogwarts uniform.

"How did you do that?" Hermione demanded.

"Switching Spell," Harry said. "You visualise what you want to wear, picture having it on in place of what you're currently wearing, put some magic into it like with Apparition, and boom, change of clothes."

"He's been doing this for two weeks," Draco groused. "It's bloody irritating."

"It's not my fault you can't do it," Harry replied. "It's really cool, though. Comes in handy when I need to wear something different in a hurry."

"But it's weird!" Draco insisted. "I don't know anybody else who can do something like that!"

"But what wizards do you know who would think of such a thing?" Harry asked. "Hell, I wouldn't have thought it up if it weren't for the Power Rangers shows Dudley watched last summer after the movie came out. They use a similar system to transform into superheroes from ordinary teenagers."

"Yes but that's," Hermione began, before pausing and trying to find the words, "not at all the same thing, Harry!"

"Sure it is!" Harry said. "You think those guys are wearing jeans and two shirts under that Spandex? Not bloody likely," he finished, smirking.

"But it's not a Switching Spell, either!" Hermione shot back.

"Fine! I'll write a paper on the method, call it the Morphing Spell, and send it in to Transfiguration Today!" Harry said. "But it's really closer to Switching Spells than you think, Hermione, and it truly doesn't deserve to be its own special spell."

"Would either of you care to enlighten the rest of us about what the Hell you're arguing about?" Draco asked.

"It's a telly programme about teenagers that use superpowers to fight evil, only they only get the superpowers by 'morphing' into Spandex costumes with helmets," Harry said. " And there're big, animal-shaped robots too. And, since it's made by this Japanese guy, there's a lot of kicking involved, even when it doesn't really make sense to be kicking."

"Understatement of the century," Hermione muttered. "Honestly. The big evil monster from outer space isn't going to blow up if you _kick it_, you have to _shoot_ it!"

Draco, Neville, and Ron all looked at Hermione as though she'd gone 'round the twist. Harry laughed.

"It's a plot issue," Harry said. "I agree with you, by the way, Hermione." The purebloods shrugged, and as one, rose and headed out to change. Harry conjured a blindfold so that Hermione could change.

They all got into the same carriage at Hogsmeade Sation and chatted amicably until they reached the Hogwarts gates. The thestrals stopped all of a sudden, and there was a knock on the carriage door. Curious, Harry opened it, to be greeted by the face of Auror Captain Frederick King.

"King?" Harry asked, a bemused expression and a raised eyebrow on his face. "What's up? Why're you stopping the carriages?"

"We're checking for Dark Marks and illegal items and potions, milord," King replied. "Scrimgeour's orders. Could you lot all roll your sleeves up?" he asked.

"You heard the man, sleeves up," Harry said, rolling his own up to show the Auror two unblemished forearms. Ron, Neville, Hermione and Draco all followed suit.

"I trust you'll vouch for these four, milord?" King asked. "No illegal contraband or Dark artifacts on your persons?"

"Not from these four, no," Harry replied. "Caught anybody so far?"

"Aye," King answered. "Two big inbred Slytherin blokes, a Vincent Crabbe and a Gregory Goyle, both Marked, and we had a cursed necklace and some really potent poison off Theodore Nott, but no Mark on him."

"I see," Harry said, as Draco lifted a curious eyebrow of his own with the revelation about Nott. "Carry on, then."

"Right-o," the Auror said, shutting the door and allowing the carriage to continue on its way. The other occupants of the carriage all turned to Draco for an explanation about his dorm mates.

"The Dark Lord must have decided to do a grab on as many new recruits as he could to make up for the losses you inflicted on him two days ago," the blond said. "Then again, they may have been initiated right after school let out, but I wasn't aware of it. Wouldn't they have been nicked in your raids two nights ago if they'd been caught with the Mark then?" he asked Harry.

"Yeah, they would've," Harry replied. "I had the teams check everybody in the house for the Mark. If they had it two nights ago, they'd be in The Pandorica now. Well, they probably will be anyway, now, but that's irrelevant."

"True," Draco said, as the carriage stopped once again, this time at the doors to the castle. The four boys got out first, with Harry helping Hermione out and onto solid ground, eliciting a blush and an "I can do it myself, Harry!" from her. They made their way into the Great Hall, where Draco put his haughty pureblood face on and headed for the Slytherin table, Prefect badge prominently displayed, while Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron headed for the Gryffindor table. Harry kept an eye on the Slytherin table, looking for any signs that the Snakes were going to attack Draco.

Harry paid so much attention to the Slytherin table that he tuned out of everything else going on in the Hall, including the Sorting, and only broke out of his reverie when Ron elbowed him after the food appeared. Even as he loaded his plate with chicken and potatoes, he still spent a great deal of his time looking at the Slytherins. Finally, halfway through the feast, Draco locked eyes with him and shot him a 'back off' glare. Relenting, Harry attempted to enjoy the food.

Finally, Dumbledore rose and stood at his podium. The food disappeared, forcing the students to give him their attention.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" the Headmaster announced. "I do have a few start of term notices I need to inform you all of, and then it will be off to bed with you. First, I would like to announce that this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor will be Professor Snape, whose replacement as Potions Professor will be Professor Slughorn." The two men stood when named, giving the students a chance to put faces to names, before sitting back down. Harry reflected, upon seeing Professor Slughorn, that Narcissa's assessment of the man was more than likely accurate: he did in fact look like a walrus.

"You will also have noted on your way to the castle that, as part of the Ministry of Magic's new security programme, Hogwarts will be hosting a small detachment of Aurors until such time as the Dark Lord Voldemort is apprehended or killed. I would ask _all_ students," Dumbledore said, with a pointed glance towards the Slytherin table, "not to antagonise the Aurors, lest they find themselves as guests of Her Majesty's newest prison. They are here for the defence of all in the castle, and I will not be able to intervene should you be found to be interfering with the duties of these men and women." There was a prolonged pause here, as Dumbledore waited to allow his words to sink in.

"Classes will begin tomorrow morning. Breakfast will begin at six; your timetables will be handed out to you by your Head of House during this time. Quidditch tryouts will be held before the end of the month, sign-up sheets will be posted in your House Common Rooms to inform you of the date and time by your House team's Captain. Finally, I would like to see Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Draco Black immediately after this. The rest of you, off to bed. Pip pip!"

Looking over at Draco, he saw a surprised expression and a raised eyebrow. Harry raised one of his own and nodded towards the Head Table. Both boys rose and walked up towards the Headmaster while the rest of the students filtered out of the Great Hall.

"Ah, Mister Potter, Mister Black, thank you for staying behind," Dumbledore said. "We should adjourn to my office, so we may discuss what needs to be discussed regarding your accommodations for the year, Mister Black."

"And what do you need me for, Professor?" Harry asked, curious.

"Aside from your position as Mister Black's guardian, I have an item or two I need to discuss with you as well, Harry," Dumbledore said, as he led the group through a back door out of the Great Hall.

"Are we taking a shortcut?" Draco asked. "I don't remember knowing about this passage before."

"We are indeed, Mister Black," Dumbledore said. "We are indeed. Of course, Harry, this passage is most likely on that Map of your father's, as I caught him several times using it to escape from the Great Hall after a prank."

Harry could only grin. "Excellent, Professor."

The trip to the seventh floor passed relatively quickly. Harry noted as they progressed that there were exits to every floor, mostly hidden behind portraits and tapestries, but in the case of the sixth floor behind a door he'd never been able to open. He would come back with the Map later and see if there was a password needed to open it.

Finally, they made it to the seventh floor, exiting through a tapestry depicting the building of the castle by the Founders, located directly across from the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office.

"Toffee," Dumbledore said, and the gargoyle sprang aside to admit the three to the Headmaster's office. Harry and Draco took a seat, refused Dumbledore's offer of a lemon drop from the candy dish on his desk, and accepted an offer of a cup of tea. He poured each of them a cup before sitting down in his high-backed chair.

"Thank you for asking to see us, Headmaster," Harry said. "I was discussing this very issue with Draco this morning, and we were hoping to see you after the Feast to discuss it."

"What a curious coincidence," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Well then. Draco, as I am sure you suspected, at this time you do not have a private room, _de jure._ However, with Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle being arrested as Death Eaters this evening, even if you were removed to the Slytherin sixth year boy's dormitory, you would have a private room, _de facto_, as Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini both retain their private rooms. Would that be acceptable?"

"I'm afraid not, Professor," Draco said. "While I'm certain the accommodations themselves would be satisfactory, Harry and I, though I rather less so than him, are concerned about the safety they would provide me from those in my House who are liable to see my disowning by my Father and adoption into the House of Black under Harry's Headship as evidence of my becoming a blood-traitor and – perhaps on the Dark Lord's orders, perhaps not – have me 'eliminated'."

"I see," Dumbledore said.

"I was thinking, Professor, well, wondering, really," Harry said. "If there was not a way to give Draco a private room in Slytherin but make it so that he does not have to go through their Common Room and risk attack in order to access it. I would have no objections to paying any surcharge necessary from the Black accounts in order to fund a new private room for him."

"Perhaps, at the very least, the private room could be arranged," Dumbledore said. "Though I am not sure about the second part of the request. It would be highly unusual," he told his favourite student.

"I am well aware," Harry said. "But I am not sure how many in Slytherin House can be trusted not to attempt at minimum bodily harm upon Draco."

"Potter, you're overreacting," Draco said. "Honestly, the way you're worrying about me, one would think I'm a first year Hufflepuff with the magical knowledge of a Muggle. I will say this only once more: I can take any of them. Lucius taught me many things. Besides, if you really care, you'll get me a pair of those shield-producing bracers of yours," he added with a slight pout. Dumbledore looked at Harry curiously, so he showed the Headmaster his Shield Bands.

"How interesting. Do they work?"

"I was able to magically exhaust Lucius basically by just standing in the middle of the hallway and letting him shoot curses at me. I didn't even need to use my wand except to bring things to intercept his Killing Curses," Harry said. "The Twins say they can absorb everything under the sun except those."

"Ah, a Weasley product. Are you certain you want them, Mister Black?" Dumbledore asked.

"I had the opportunity to watch Potter activate Weasley and Longbottom's on the train this afternoon," Draco said. "I was very impressed."

"Alright then. I'll have them make a pair for you, but it could take a couple days, so be careful, OK?" Harry admonished. Draco rolled his eyes.

"May I return to my room, Headmaster?" he asked. Dumbledore adopted briefly a vacant expression before answering.

"Yes, Mister Black, your room should be ready by the time you arrive at Slytherin. The password is 'viper'," Dumbledore said. Draco nodded and set out, leaving Harry and Dumbledore alone.

"You mentioned you had something you needed to discuss with me, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Minister Diggory has made me aware of the needs you shall have for this upcoming school year as a result of your new position. I have taken the liberty of opening up an office in the Transfiguration wing for the use of you and the aide Amos implied would be arriving within the week. It will be connected to the Floo network, to allow you to travel to the Ministry as needed. My only condition for this is that you inform me before you leave, regardless of whether it is during the day or after classes have ended, so that I as well as the Professors and the Prefects do not worry about where you have gone."

"I can do that, Professor," Harry said. "What was the other thing?"

"I was hoping that you could find time in your schedule to allow me the opportunity to pass on some of my considerable knowledge in dueling Dark Wizards to you," Dumbledore said. "I believe you have free periods in both the morning and the afternoons."

"Yes sir," Harry said. "If you don't mind, I'd like to do it in the afternoon," he said. "Draco and I will be meeting during the morning free period to continue my education in politics, etiquette, and finance, with some swordfighting practice as well."

"Very well then," Dumbledore said. "I shall make the addition to your timetable. The password for Gryffindor is 'Augustus'. I shall see you tomorrow afternoon, Harry. Good night."

"Good night, Professor," Harry said, taking his leave of Dumbledore's office and making his way to Gryffindor Tower. Speaking the password and walking in past the Fat Lady, he immediately made his way up to bed, ignoring everyone in the Common Room. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day, and he wanted to be sure he got plenty of rest before it.

* * *

_A/N: Another chapter in the books. A little longer this time, exhaustingly so, in fact. The next couple chapters will be the first day back. I say couple because just after lunch, the first chapter is already at 3600 words. Since I don't fancy writing a 7000-word chapter (and I doubt many of you fancy reading one), I decided to split the day into two chapters. The second chapter will mostly focus on a discussion of Voldy-face and Horcruxes between Harry and Dumbledore. Haven't decided whether or not Harry will be a Horcrux, if so, I'm not going to let him be one long. The tricky part will be getting the thing out of him._

_Anyway, that's a discussion for another time and place. All the same, if you have any ideas on how I should do this, let me know in a review. Also, let me know what you thought of this chapter, especially since it comes after this story has crossed the 100-review mark! Woohoo!_

_Regards,  
_

_Phoenix II  
_


	22. Chapter 22

Harry woke the next morning a little before six thirty and quickly showered and dressed, making his way down to the Great Hall. Hermione and Neville were already there, and they had saved seats for him and Ron, who was just waking as Harry had left the dormitory.

"Good morning, lady and gentleman," Harry said, taking a seat next to Hermione. "Anything interesting in the Prophet today?"

"Oh, not really," Hermione said, looking up from where she had her head buried in page six. "Just an article about the upcoming ICW General Assembly meeting in Geneva. Apparently, the Russian Ministry of Magic is feeling the effects of your little strike. Voldemort's been recruiting from Durmstrang, and that means there's more than a few Dark wizards from Eastern Europe who're acting up."

"And of course, this is Britain's fault for not taking care of him sooner?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.

"That's pretty much the gist of what he's saying. Of course, the _Prophet_'s having none of it, slagging off on their Minister like he's spit in ours' chicken salad sandwich."

"They would," Harry said, heaping eggs and sausages onto his plate. "When does it say the meeting is?" he asked.

"End of the month," Hermione told him. "Why? Surely you're not thinking of going, Harry, we already have delegates to the ICW who're responsible for handling responses to this kind of thing."

"No, no, I'm not thinking of going," Harry said. "Just thinking of asking our men to pass along a strongly-worded letter to the Russian Minister telling him to mind his own country's business first, before he goes along and pokes his nose into any others, and remind him that when he points the finger, there are three pointing back at him."

"Well said, Harry," Neville said. "Where's Ron? McGonagall's coming around with timetables."

"He was just getting out of bed as I was leaving," Harry said, looking at the entrance to the Great Hall to see his ginger friend making a beeline for the table, looking unusually disheveled.

"Whew! Made it!" he exclaimed, heaping eggs, sausages, bacon and toast onto his own plate and tucking in just as Professor McGonagall arrived at the section of the Gryffindor table the sixth years occupied.

"Good morning, Mister Potter, Mister Longbottom, Miss Granger and Mister Weasley," their Head of House greeted them, pulling four sheets from her (greatly diminished by this point) stack and handing them to the respective student. "I trust you all had a good night's sleep?"

"Yes, Professor," all four responded, though Ron's was muffled by a mouthful of mashed-up food. McGonagall frowned slightly.

"Heavens, Mister Weasley, will you ever learn to swallow before speaking?" she asked, eliciting a gulp from Ron before he sheepishly promised her that he would.

"I shall see you all this afternoon in Transfiguration," McGonagall said. "Mister Potter, by the by, I have heard of your interesting new use for the Switching Spell. I was wondering if you might consider demonstrating in class later this week, and perhaps writing a short essay on how you thought up and developed this method for extra credit?"

Harry shot a quick glance at a blushing Hermione before replying that he would be happy to, and ended up with an invitation to meet with McGonagall briefly after class to discuss it. Once she was gone, Harry glared at Hermione.

"What? I just thought it was interesting, and since Switching Spells are Transfiguration, obviously McGonagall was the one to talk to about it!" Hermione said, trying to defend herself.

"You'd just better hope I don't use the opportunity to prank the entire class by Switching into a Speedo," Harry said. "Detentions with Filch be damned." Hermione turned even redder, while Harry took a look at his timetable.

_Schedule for Harry J. Potter – Sixth Year – Gryffindor_

_**Monday: **__8 AM- Herbology, Prof. Sprout, 9:30-Free Period, 11-Potions, Prof. Slughorn, 12:15-Lunch, 1:30-Transfiguration, Prof. McGonagall, 3-Private Tutoring, Prof. Dumbledore_

_**Tuesday: **__8 AM-Care of Magical Creatures, Prof. Hagrid, 9:30-Free Period, 11-Charms, Prof. Flitwick, 12:15-Lunch, 1:30-Defence Against the Dark Arts, Prof. Snape, 3-Private Tutoring, Prof. Dumbledore_

_**Wednesday: **__8 AM- Herbology, Prof. Sprout, 9:30-Free Period, 11-Potions, Prof. Slughorn, 12:15-Lunch, 1:30-Transfiguration, Prof. McGonagall, 3-Private Tutoring, Prof. Dumbledore_

_**Thursday: **__8 AM-Care of Magical Creatures, Prof. Hagrid, 9:30-Free Period, 11-Charms, Prof. Flitwick, 12:15-Lunch, 1:30-Defence Against the Dark Arts, Prof. Snape, 3-Private Tutoring, Prof. Dumbledore_

_**Friday:**__ 8 AM- Herbology, Prof. Sprout, 9:30-Free Period, 11-Potions, Prof. Slughorn, 12:15-Lunch, 1:30-Transfiguration, Prof. McGonagall, 3-Private Tutoring, Prof. Dumbledore_

"Oh good, it's Herbology first thing this morning," he said. "And Defence isn't until tomorrow afternoon, oh, this is excellent!"

"What're those extra things on your timetable, Harry?" Neville asked, pointing out where Harry's private tutoring sessions were listed.

"It is what it says it is, Nev, private tutoring," Harry replied. "Professor Dumbledore wants to teach me some of what he used to defeat Grindelwald and fight Riddle to a draw last summer."

"Oh. Cool," Neville said. "Think you can pass it on to us?"

"Yeah maybe," Harry said. "Depends on how many DA members I can recruit into the Knights. Plus, I'm not sure exactly what we'll be learning over Christmas."

"Huh?" Neville asked.

"Oh, blimey, I didn't tell you, did I?" Harry asked, quite rhetorically though Neville and Ron told him that he hadn't anyway. "The three of us, plus whatever additional Knights we recruit and maybe Hermione and the Auxiliary, will be going to the Knight's Headquarters in Avebury over the Christmas Hols for training. I didn't pick the time, Godric told me that's when I needed to be there."

"Probably something to do with the Winter Solstice," Neville surmised. "OK then. Now, what were you saying about DA members?"

"I think a lot of them would make for good Knights, if we can train them up a bit," Harry said. "I've already sent an invitation to join to Justin Finch-Fletchey from Hufflepuff after talking to his father."

"And I've come to answer, Sir Harry," came the voice of said Hufflepuff from behind him. Spinning around, he saw the grinning visage of Justin Finch-Fletchey.

"Sorry I couldn't do it before now, I'm sorry to say I'd quite forgotten," he said. "Besides, Father says it would be better of me to accept in person." Now it was Harry's turn to grin.

"You're accepting then?"

"Happily," Justin replied. "Is there something you need me to swear?"

"Well, yes, but the big one doesn't need to be said right now," Harry said. "The other four I've got haven't yet. However, since I formally invited you, and you're responding, there is something that needs be done. On one knee, sir," Harry said, grabbing a butter knife from the table and, with a muttered spell and the tap of a wand, transfigured it into a sword and presented it to Justin, who set it point-first upon the stone floor of the Great Hall and bowed his head over the pommel.

"I, Lord Sir Harry James Potter, Viscount Potter and Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury, do invite Justin Finch-Fletchey into the Company of same. Do you accept?" Harry asked.

"I, Justin Finch-Fletchey do accept the invitation of the Right Honourable Knight to join his Company, and swear my undying allegiance and support to the Order of the Scarlet Knights and its Monarch, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second of the United Kingdom," Justin said in a clear voice. Harry magically summoned the Sword of Gryffindor to him by way of his clothes-changing spell, and drew it as soon as it appeared, tapping Justin on first the right, then the left shoulder.

"In the name of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, I dub thee Sir Justin Finch-Fletchey, Knight Companion of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury. Arise, Sir Justin!" Harry exclaimed, watching the new Knight rise with a big grin on his face. "You can keep that until you can get your hands on a proper one," Harry advised him. "I doubt anyone will be missing a butter knife too much."

Concentrating, Justin reversed the transfiguration on the knife and handed it over. "I'll have an owl off to my Dad, see if he can send me a real one," he said. "Just curious, Sir Harry, what are my new post-nomials?"

"Well, mine are KCSK for Knight Commander, so you can't use that for Knight Companion. I'd say just go with CSK, Sir Justin," Harry replied. "Aiming to give your old man a heart attack?"

"Quite to the contrary," Justin said, "I'm hoping to butter him up enough to buy me the bloody blade!" Both he and Harry laughed.

"I'll see you in Herbology then, Sir Justin," Harry said. The new Knight bowed his head to Harry and returned to his table, and Harry turned around once more to face his friends.

"Well, that was fun." Hermione was looking on at him in awe, while Ron and Neville just looked bemused.

"What?" Harry asked. "I met his father over the Summer, outside of Council, Hermione, and we had a discussion about things, including Justin. His family buy wholesale into the 'For Queen and Country' thing, so I sent him a letter asking him to do just that and join my Knights. That, and I kinda, may have put in there that none of the boys at Eton would be Knights with post-nomials by age 16."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "That is just…urgh!"

"Oh lighten up, Hermione," Harry said. "At least he's not as bad off as me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to write my name on envelopes now?"

"No, I don't," Hermione said. "How bad could it be?" Harry got an evil look on his face as he rummaged through his bag for a piece of parchment.

_The Rt. Hon. Lord Sir Harry James Potter, Viscount Potter, Baron Black, KCSK, PC_ he wrote, and handed it across the table to Hermione, who looked over what he had written and simply opened and closed her mouth several times with no sound coming out. Harry took the parchment back.

"I thought so," he said. "The worst part is, it's only going to get longer unless Draco finds a pretty girl and has a son I can shunt the Black Lordship onto, and even then that may be replaced by 'rewards' for ridding this country of Riddle."

"Like an Order of Merlin?" Ron asked.

"Well, that's part of it," Harry said. "There's other orders of chivalry I could be inducted into, and Her Majesty could also give me additional titles beyond my viscountcy and barony."

"All pity the poor titled Potter!" Neville crowed. "Too humble for your own good, you are, Harry. Not that you should be like Draco was, but you have a very important part to play in the Wizarding World. Just two generations ago, the name of Potter carried nearly as much weight in Wizarding circles as does Her Majesty's in the Muggle world. Five generations ago, Lord Potter was Minister for Magic, and was one of the better Ministers of the last hundred years. Your great-grandfather George actually had enough political clout and power as a member of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts that he was able to get Phineas Nigellus Black sacked as Headmaster!" Neville said. "And the best part about it is, you have the ability to top them all, while leading your House back to the glory it had known before Voldemort's initial rise to power."

The other three, as well as half the Gryffindor table within hearing range, was all stunned to hear such passionate language coming from Neville, of all people.

Harry gave a slight cough, wiping away some invisible crumbs with a napkin before he spoke again, not really looking at anything or anyone in particular. "Yes, well…perhaps I'll work at comporting myself differently, then?"

Neville snickered. "C'mon, you. We've got herbology in 20 minutes, and I doubt you have your book," he said, hoisting Harry from his seat and marching him towards the exit of the Hall. Ron followed after snatching up some toast and sausages in a napkin for afters, while Hermione remained behind to finish her breakfast at her leisure, having brought all her books with her in her bag.

Consequently, she beat the three boys to the class, where Professor Sprout directed them to Greenhouse Four, which most of the class did after exchanging looks of trepidation, having never been permitted in Greenhouse Four before due to the types of dangerous plants it contained. Apparently the professor believed that, as NEWT students, they now could handle being in the presence of the more dangerous plants; a hypothesis whose supporting evidence included the fact that their new textbook was called _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World._

They spent their class period listening to Sprout give an overview of the plants they would be covering over the year, including a brief explanation as to what the plant was and how to identify it, while also pointing out where in the greenhouse it was. When she asked class members if they could point out the plant for her, Neville's hand was one of the first in the air, and he was right a large amount of the time, only confusing Seawlass with Gaelthon, two plants, similar in colouration, both poisonous, the difference being Gaelthon delivered it's poison through needles and Seawlass did so through its serrated leaves. The class was assigned to write an essay about the various properties of either Seawlass or Gaelthon, what its uses were, the effects of its poison and how, if possible, to negate the poison.

After Herbology, Harry encountered Draco in the Entrance Hall. Draco told him that he was headed to History of Magic, despite this being a free period for Harry. Promising to meet with him before Potions, and telling him to bring his timetable with him, Draco darted off. Shrugging, Harry headed after Neville to get started on the Herbology essay. After an hour discussing Seawlass with Neville, Harry left for Potions.

He met up with Draco just outside of the dungeons.

"Why couldn't you meet me in your free period this morning?" Harry asked.

"I have History during that time, Potter, see," Draco said, pushing his timetable into Harry's hands.

_Schedule for Draco L. Black – Sixth Year – Slytherin_

_**Monday: **__8 AM – Arithmancy, Prof. Sinistra, 9:30 – History of Magic, Prof. Binns, 11 – Potions, Prof. Slughorn, 12:15 – Lunch, 1:30 – Transfiguration, Prof. McGonagall, 3 – Free Period_

_**Tuesday: **__8 AM – Ancient Runes, Prof. Babbling, 9:30 – Free Period, 11 – Charms, Prof. Flitwick, 12:15 – Lunch, 1:30 – Defence Against the Dark Arts, Prof. Snape, 3 – Herbology, Prof. Sprout_

_**Wednesday: **__8 AM – Arithmancy, Prof. Sinistra, 9:30 – History of Magic, Prof. Binns, 11 – Potions, Prof. Slughorn, 12:15 – Lunch, 1:30 – Transfiguration, Prof. McGonagall, 3 – Free Period_

_**Thursday: **__8 AM – Ancient Runes, Prof. Babbling, 9:30 – Free Period, 11 – Charms, Prof. Flitwick, 12:15 – Lunch, 1:30 – Defence Against the Dark Arts, Prof. Snape, 3 – Herbology, Prof. Sprout_

_**Friday: **__8 AM – Arithmancy, Prof. Sinistra, 9:30 – History of Magic, Prof. Binns, 11 – Potions, Prof. Slughorn, 12:15 – Lunch, 1:30 – Transfiguration, Prof. McGonagall, 3 – Free Period_

"I only have a free period Tuesday and Thursday mornings. We can meet then," Draco said. "After all, there's not really that much more I can teach you."

"Fine," Harry said. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, 9:30, at the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor."

"Fine," Draco said, and the two made their way into the Potions classroom, where Slughorn eagerly greeted them: Draco because of his family (the old man had a soft spot for the Blacks, and held them in very high regard, apparently), and Harry because of his fame.

The class began with Slughorn quizzing them on the identities and properties of three potions he had brewed; Draco competing with Hermione for the right to answer each question. At the end of the little quiz, Slughorn revealed that they were to brew the Draught of Living Death, with the winner receiving a vial of Felix Felicis, or Liquid Luck.

Harry was very frustrated by the instructions. Whoever had written this book clearly had no idea as to how to extract juice from a sopophorous bean; they were nigh impossible to cut. As with most beans, however, it could be squished to release its precious juices very easily. Harry did so, and grinned as his potion turned the proper colour, much to Hermione's consternation as she continued to foolishly try and cut the sopophorous bean.

"How did you do that?" she asked as he began stirring. _Seven stirs counterclockwise_, the book instructed, and the potion should begin to lighten until it became as of water. Harry did so, and frowned slightly when it remained the lilac colour it had been before he had begun stirring. Wondering if the book's author was wrong about this as well, he tentatively stirred clockwise and his eyebrows shot up as the potion began to lighten. He experimented with the rotation of his stirring until he settled on a pattern of seven stirs counterclockwise, followed by one stir clockwise, as this pattern steadily lightened the colour of the potion.

"Seriously, how are you doing this?" Hermione asked, looking over at him in astonishment, as her potion was a light purple. She had just started her stirring after finally trapping her bean to cut it.

"Seven stirs counterclockwise, one clockwise," Harry told her. "That book is rubbish."

"And how did you get this far this fast! It took me ages to get the sopophorous bean juice," she continued, curiously taking his advice and shooting her own eyebrows up her forehead as the potion lightened.

"I didn't bother trying to cut the bean, I squished it," Harry said. "Much easier."

"But the book said to cut it!" Hermione said.

"You've never made coffee by hand, have you, Hermione?" Harry asked. "Or mashed peas? Squishing always works better than cutting. It's how beans work." Hermione looked at him strangely.

"And the stirring?" she asked, skeptical.

"Well, it wasn't changing colour after seven counterclockwise stirs, so I decided to try clockwise, and it worked right away," Harry said. "So, after I messed around for a little and decided that further clockwise stirs had no effect, I settled on seven counterclockwise, and one clockwise stir."

"Even though it's completely contradictory to what's in the book?"

"The book obviously doesn't know everything, or indeed much of anything," Harry said, as Slughorn instructed them to finish up. He walked around, looking at the potions of all those in the class. He seemed impressed with Theodore Nott's, approving of Draco's, curious around those of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and then he came to Harry, Hermione, and Ron's table. Ron's he didn't comment on, being something resembling tar, merely vanishing it in an action that reminded Harry of Snape. Ron didn't protest, as he knew the potion barely qualified as such, and certainly did not qualify as the Draught of Living Death.

"Miss Granger," Slughorn said, looking at Hermione's potion. "Adequate, I daresay. This would do the trick if it were administered to someone." Hermione looked an odd cross between miffed and pleased, but Slughorn paid her no further mind, as he had seen Harry's potion.

"Mister Potter!" he exclaimed. "This is quite magnificent! Nearly perfect, I would say. How did you manage it?"

"I noticed a few errors in the text and I made subsequent changes to the method it suggested to correct the flaws," Harry said.

"Ahh, just as brilliant as your mother," Slughorn said. "Yes, the recipe in _Advanced Potion Making_ is just as flawed in this edition as it was 20 years ago when she took this class, and indeed as it was 50 years ago when the book was first written. Somehow, despite multiple entreaties on my part, the flaw remains each year. Ah well. The clear winner, I should think, and to you, Mister Potter, one bottle of Felix Felicis. Use it well, m'boy!" he said, presenting Harry with the small, teardrop-shaped vial containing the golden potion. "And for the rest of you, homework! An essay detailing where each of your potions went wrong and why, and what you might have done to avoid or correct the issue."

Groaning, the rest of the class set out from the classroom, Harry with an arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"Well, at least your essay will be really short, Hermione!" he joked. "_Realised that sopophorous beans release more juice, and faster, when squished, and to correct, not trust everything in my book next time!_" His joke earned him a shove and a punch to his upper arm, which he rubbed to dispel the pain.

"Ow!" he said. "You wound me, Hermione!"

"Quit being a prat," she huffed. "How was I to know the recipe was flawed?"

"Not like I knew either," Harry reminded her. "But seriously, we _know_ how tricky sopophorous beans are, we've used them in three other potions and they were a question on the Herbology OWL."

"I _know_, Harry. I suppose I just didn't make the connection between what I already knew about the sopophorous bean and today," Hermione said as they reached the Great Hall and sat down.

"And that's why you score lower on the practical," Harry said. "You have to start making those connections. You're smart enough to, why don't you?"

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said. "Can we not talk about this now? It'll ruin my appetite."

"Suit yourself," Harry said, starting in on a turkey sandwich. Hermione appraised him curiously before grabbing her own meal. A half-hour later, they – joined again by Harry and Neville – were headed for Transfiguration.

* * *

_A/N: And here's the first part of the first day. Next time, you'll get a conversation between Harry and McGonagall, Harry's first lesson with Prof. Dumbledore: including some genealogy, Horcrux talk, and compliments, and then Harry gets to his office. That'll be up on 10 August. I'm still undecided about Harry being a Horcrux, but at the same time, I don't know how else to adequately explain how Harry has his mental connection and everything with dear Thomas. I could possibly BS something, but I dunno. Thoughts, opinions? Let me know in a review._

_Thanks for reading,_

_Phoenix II  
_


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N 1: I am back! A little later than usual, but I decided a late post was better than making you all wait another ten days to get this. You've already been far too patient with me. I'll have a bit more to say at the end of the chapter, but for now, enjoy!

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_

Transfiguration was, in Harry's opinion, rather boring. McGonagall announced they would be working on inorganic to organic transfiguration, something he had very little interest in. He knew his family was proficient in Transfiguration, from lectures by his forefathers and especially his father, who was rather put out that Harry hadn't achieved an O on his OWLs, while Lily had been rather disappointed that he hadn't gotten Os or Charms or Potions.

"Mister Potter, please pay attention," McGonagall snapped as his eyelids drooped shut for the third time that hour.

"Apologies, Professor," Harry said, looking down at his desk once more to find a small vial of something Harry recognised as Pepper-Up Potion. Surreptitiously, he drank it and – much to McGonagall's relief – was reasonably attentive for the rest of the class, and even managed to achieve a halfway decent transfiguration of a button into a beetle.

"We will be starting small," McGonagall said before the practical session started. "By the time you sit your exams this December, I will expect you will be able to be able to conjure or transfigure medium-sized birds. By June, you will be able to transfigure canines, much as Cedric Diggory did during the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament two years ago."

Harry figured that would be the case. After all, they had spent a good portion of their third year on organic to inorganic transfiguration, much to Wormtail's chagrin.

"Professor?" Hermione asked. "Will we be learning any animation this year?"

"As the creatures you conjure increase in complexity, I will teach you the basics of animation in order to help you make their appearance convincing," Professor McGonagall said. "Animation itself is a seventh-year subject, Ms. Granger."

When the bell rang, McGonagall asked if Harry would stay behind. He waited for the room to empty before approaching the Professor's desk.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Ah, Harry, thank you for staying back. I was wondering if you'd considered this morning's discussion further," McGonagall said.

"Honestly, no I hadn't," Harry said. "But I don't see the harm in it, if the theory I put into it and the effects intrigue you so much."

"I would very much appreciate that," she replied. "Because when I heard what you'd done on the train, I was very impressed. It had never occurred to me that a Switching Spell might be used in such a fashion, if you'll excuse the pun."

Harry grinned. "Consider it excused, Professor. Truth be told, I got the idea from watching a Muggle TV programme."

"Oh really?"

"It's about a group of teenagers fighting a bunch of powerful monsters with karate, and the only way they match up is by the teenagers 'morphing' from their ordinary outfits into uniforms that give them super powers," Harry tried to explain.

"Could you perhaps give me a private demonstration?" McGonagall asked.

"Sure. What do you want me to Switch into?" Harry asked.

"Your Quidditch uniform," she replied. Harry closed his eyes, concentrated for a moment and with a pop, he was wearing his Quidditch kit. He opened his eyes to see McGonagall looking at him impressed.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," she said, and he switched back. "I will allow you fifteen minutes at the end of class on Friday to explain and demonstrate this for the class. And if you Switch into a revealing swimsuit, despite what I am sure would be the wishes of many of the girls in your year, I will set you so many detentions with Professor Snape that you will not be able to complete them before you graduate," she warned, and Harry paled.

"You heard that, then?" he asked.

"Yes. While one part of me is pleased that your father's personality is shining through in you, another part of me remembers very well the terrors he, Sirius, Remus and Pettigrew caused in their years here. As I recall, all of them very nearly missed their graduations because they were in detention."

"OK, I won't Switch into a swimsuit then," Harry said. "I wouldn't have anyway, I was just kidding."

"I'm sure," McGonagall replied dryly. "I will give you until Halloween for the essay. You may feel free to make it as long as you like. Do you think you will need a pass into the Restricted Section for any theory books?"

"No, but thank you for the offer," Harry said. "I really should be going, Professor. I'm expected in the Headmaster's Office."

"Of course," McGonagall said. "Off you go." Harry walked calmly out of the Transfiguration classroom before setting off at a "brisk walk" (really, he was running) for the Headmaster's office. He reached the gargoyle just as the clock struck 3.

"Toffee!" he panted out, and the gargoyle sprang aside, allowing Harry to ride the staircase to the Headmaster's office and catch his breath before he opened the door.

"Ah, good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Have a seat. Would you care for some tea?"

"If it isn't any trouble, I would, yes, thank you," Harry said.

"It is no trouble at all," Dumbledore said. "How do you take it?"

"Just tea," Harry said. "No milk, no sugar."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, making each of them a cup of tea. Harry noted that the Headmaster took his tea with milk and a spoonful of sugar.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said after taking a sip. "How has your day been?"

"Enjoyable," Harry replied, amicably. "Herbology was Herbology, Potions was much improved over previous years, and Transfiguration is getting to the good stuff."

"Ah, yes. Are you looking forward to Transfiguration this year?" Harry idly recalled that before he became Headmaster, Dumbledore had been Transfiguration Professor.

"It sounded like it could be interesting later in the year," Harry admitted. "But to be honest, I nearly fell asleep three times during the lecture, and didn't apply myself very much in the practical to transfigure a button into a beetle."

"Didn't see the point?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry nodded. "Most students don't. But it is better to start out small in magic like transfiguration, because the power it takes for the higher level transfigurations is considerable, and very hard for those without a mature magical core to perform."

"I suppose that makes sense," Harry said. "What are we going to be learning today?"

"Today, Harry, I hope to teach you a little bit about your adversary," Dumbledore said. "As a student, Tom Riddle showed an exceptional amount of power. By the time he graduated, he was at a level that very few witches and wizards can boast of. This was before any of the numerous Dark rituals he underwent and potions he took to enhance his power and strength, but at the cost of his humanity."

"What level is he at now, sir?" Harry asked.

"He is nearly at my own," Dumbledore admitted. "And I am, as you know, a Grand Sorcerer. You, though your own magical core is not completely mature yet, will most likely be able to claim this distinction as well. Your father, thanks to the Potters' liberal marriage policy that kept the family magic strong, was a very powerful Sorcerer, and your mother a very talented Sorceress. Very few purebloods have been able to claim Grand Sorcerer status over the last two centuries as a consequence of the inter-breeding. Your great-grandfather was one of the last."

"Great-grandfather George?" Harry asked, a fond curiosity in his tone.

"The very same. He was one of my mentors as I began my search for my place in the Wizarding world," Dumbledore recalled. "Most purebloods now are, at best, Sorcerers, and more than a few are mere Warlocks."

"What's Draco?" Harry asked, curious. Dumbledore looked contemplative for a moment.

"He is most likely a Sorcerer," the Headmaster concluded. "Along with Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger. Mr. Longbottom has the potential to be a very high-level Sorcerer, on the cusp of Grand Sorcerer level. Might I add that I am glad that you have befriended Mister Longbottom at last, Harry?"

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said. "Why?"

"Do you recall the Prophecy?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded. "It said that the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord would be born at the end of July. Do you recall when Neville's birthday is?"

"July 30th," Harry said. "Oh. It could have been Neville?" he asked.

"Yes. The choice was entirely Tom's as to which family he would attack, as both the Potters and the Longbottoms had defied him three times. You may find Neville to be a very formidable ally in the coming months," Dumbledore said. "Now, may we begin?" he asked, as he finished his tea and set aside the cup.

"I have one question, first, sir, that's been burning on my mind since my trip to the Knights' Chamber. What are Horcruxes? One of my great-grandfathers said that Tom didn't die because he had Horcruxes."

Dumbledore looked quite uneasy, almost disturbed that Harry knew about Horcruxes in the first place. "Indeed. That is one of the things I hoped to cover with you this year, Harry. A Horcrux is a Dark artifact that houses a piece of your soul, binding you to the earth for as long as the item containing the soul piece remains intact."

"But how do you split your soul?" Harry asked.

"Murder," Dumbledore said simply. "Pure, premeditated murder, born of malice, is what is required to fracture your soul. Should you commit such a foul act, there is a ritual and a spell used to guide the fragment to an object and seal it inside."

"And Tom did this?" Harry asked, appropriately revolted.

"It is my belief that he did it six times," Dumbledore said. "Of course, in his obsession with obtaining immortality, he neglected his own mortality. The soul is not something that is supposed to be fragmented and split, as one might have a limb amputated. Not even those who have given their lives entirely to the darkest of the Dark Arts, Necromancy, dare to tamper with the soul in such fashion."

"That's why Old Snakeface looks like he does?" Harry asked.

"Well, a good portion of it may be the nature of the construction of the body, as it is the product of a Dark ritual," Dumbledore said. "But there is no denying that the body that was destroyed that Halloween night even slightly resembled that of the Tom Riddle who graduated Hogwarts forty years prior."

"So if he split it six times, that means there are seven pieces of his soul?" Harry asked.

"Yes, and six Horcruxes, since one piece still remains inside his body," Dumbledore said. "Fortunately, you have already destroyed one."

"The diary?" Harry guessed, taking a stab in the dark.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I suspected that was what it was when you described to me how you had defeated Tom in the Chamber, and it indeed saddened me to think that he had already committed a murder by the age of sixteen to allow him to form a Horcrux using the diary. Afterwards, I began my investigation into the past of Tom Riddle, searching for clues as to what other items he may have used to sneak away portions of his soul."

"But, couldn't they be anything?" Harry asked.

"Yes, they could," Dumbledore said. "But this is Tom we are dealing with, Harry," he reminded his student. "He has a very inflated ego, and would only pick important items and relics to have the dubious honour of hosting part of his soul. The diary, perhaps, was used to commemorate his achievement in opening the Chamber, as something that would endure and was at hand, but afterwards he began to use things of much greater significance."

"What items?" Harry asked. In response, Dumbledore levitated his Pensieve and a rack of vials holding memories onto his desk.

"Over the past three summers, I have been investigating and trying to track down what possible items he may have used as Horcruxes. Doing this required me to trace Tom's family history, his years after Hogwarts, and to track down those he had worked with during this time. I have collected several memories that I wish to share with you," Dumbledore said. "This first one is from a man named Bob Ogden, who was Head of the MLEP in the 1920s, and will show you Tom's mother's family."

He poured the memory into the Pensieve and invited Harry to enter it. Hesitantly, Harry did so. They exited twenty minutes later, and Harry looked horrified.

"That girl was Tom's mother?" he asked. Dumbledore nodded.

"And the Muggle in question was his father. Her father and brother, and indeed her, were the results of multiple generations of Gaunts marrying other Gaunts. Neither Marvolo nor Morfin attended Hogwarts, nor did any Gaunt after 1832, due to a lack of money to afford the tuition and a lack of magical prowess necessary to succeed in class. Now, did you notice the two items Marvolo was so insistent on showing Mr. Ogden?"

"A ring and a locket," Harry said. "The locket belonged to Slytherin, and the ring – wait, didn't he say it had the Peverell coat of arms on it?"

"That he did indeed," Dumbledore said. Harry looked angry.

"But I'm related to the Peverells," he said. "Our families merged in the 1400s."

"Yes, but that branch of the family was that of the youngest son, Ignotus," Dumbledore said. "That ring belonged to the middle son, Cadmus, whose family merged with the Gaunts in 1358. The oldest son, Antioch, died childless."

"Oh, wonderful," Harry said. "So I'm Voldemort's cousin?"

"To a very far degree," Dumbledore said, "since your common ancestor died 900 years ago. But that's beside the point, Harry."

"Oh?" Harry asked. "Oh! You think those two things are Horcruxes, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Indeed I do. And I believe I have the location for where he hid the ring."

"Well then, let's go get it!" Harry said enthusiastically.

"Alas, it is not that simple," Dumbledore said. "For I believe the ring is still in the Gaunt house in Little Hangleton. Also, as far as I know, Voldemort continues to make his headquarters in the Riddle house. He is also likely to have proximity wards and several traps around the Gaunt home, to protect his Horcrux."

"Oh," Harry said. "And so we probably wouldn't have the time to get in, disable the traps, grab the ring, and get out before Tom could get there and try to kill us."

"Quite."

"Well, what if we just burned the house down?" Harry said. "Whip up some Gulbraithian Fire, fly over any wards he put on the place and drop it? That should be hot enough to destroy the ring. Or we could use Nifflers. If it's made out of gold, the niffler could root it out and bring it back, and then we could destroy it."

"I had been thinking something more along the lines of disabling the wards, going in and acquiring the ring during the dead of night," Dumbledore said. "When Tom is likely to be asleep."

"Are you sure he sleeps?" Harry asked. "At least, at night? Because if I were an evil super-villain who was willing to undergo any sort of dark ritual to make myself more powerful and indestructible, the first thing I would do would be to find one that eliminated my need for sleep, so I couldn't be killed by one of my followers in the middle of the night. And if he hasn't done that, have you forgotten that most of the Death Eater attacks happen at night? If he sleeps at all, it's probably during the daytime."

The look on Dumbledore's face indicated that he clearly had forgotten, and had not thought this aspect of his plan through very well.

"Perhaps we can go during the next Hogsmeade weekend," Harry said. "That way, you'll have about a month to do a bit more research and find out what kind of wards he has on the place."

"A very sound plan, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I do have a few more memories I should like to show you this week, all pertaining to things I believe Tom to have turned into Horcruxes and where I believe he has hidden them, but I believe they can wait for our other sessions. We will spend our first hour examining and discussing the various memories, and our second hour teaching you spells." He replaced the Pensieve and the memories in their cupboard, and then stood up.

"What about the locket?" Harry asked. "It looked familiar. I could almost swear I'd seen it before."

"Where could you have possibly seen it before?" Dumbledore asked. Harry paused while he searched through his memories.

"In Sirius' house," he finally said. "Kreacher was furious at us because we kept trying to throw it away. It felt … strange."

"Interesting," Dumbledore said. "I shall investigate this, Harry. I may need you to summon Kreacher so we may ask him about the locket."

"Let me know where and when, sir," Harry said. "If it is a Horcrux that was sitting right under our nose for the last year, maybe we should have Mad-Eye give us extra lessons in constant vigilance."

Dumbledore chuckled, before shifting gears. "In lieu of spellwork today, Harry, I should like to show you to the office you shall be working in," he said. "Your assistant arrived just after nine and should have his space set up. I must say, Harry that I'm most impressed with the way you've gone about this plan of yours in the last month. It seems very well thought-out."

"Truth be told, Professor," Harry said as they left the office, "for the most part I've been flying by the seat of my pants. Everything between the Wizengamot session and August 30 was not very well planned at all. In fact, had Draco and Narcissa not come into my care, that month would have probably been spent reading half the Potter library."

"Really?" Dumbledore said. "How extraordinary. I never should have guessed." They made their way down to the Transfiguration wing, where Dumbledore opened a door to reveal a sizable office.

"Ah, milord Potter! I was wondering when I would see you," the bureaucrat said. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, pleasure to see you again."

"You as well, Mr. Daniels," Dumbledore said from behind Harry. "Harry, this is Owain Daniels, Ravenclaw, class of '84."

"And as of this morning, Administrative Assistant to the Special Deputy Minister for Security," Daniels said. "Yesterday I was Junior Assistant to the Senior Deputy Undersecretary for International Magical Cooperation."

"And your job is to do my paperwork for me?" Harry asked hopefully. Daniels chuckled. "You wish, milord."

"I think I shall leave you two to get acquainted," Dumbledore said. "Dinner begins at 5, Harry."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. Dumbledore left, shutting the door behind him, and Harry took the opportunity to examine the setup of the office. There were two desks, one covered in paperwork near the back of the room, and another, much more tidy, across from the fireplace. A portrait frame stood above the mantle, blank.

"Don't tell me, the one in the back is mine," Harry said, looking glum. Daniels looked at him.

"Of course, milord. There are several things that have accumulated which require your attention since you were last at the Ministry," the older man said. "You need to read and sign off on the After-Action Reports from your thirty raids, sign off on the prisoner transfer documentation, approve or reject the award recommendations of your strike team leaders, and a few other things."

Harry groaned. It appeared to be quite a bit more than a 'few' other things, judging by the size of the stacks. Unless the AARs were each longer than five pages. Then again, that was a possibility, considering that each Auror had likely written one, and there had been 23 on each team.

"Of course, should you choose not to read them, no one would blame you," Daniels said, almost as an aside. "Most don't. I've marked where you need to sign on all of it." Harry grinned.

"I think I'm going to like you," he decided, flopping down in the chair behind the desk and reaching for a quill. The hour flew by, and he made a significant dent in the stack of parchment on it. To his amazement, as soon as he signed his name where Owain had indicated, the parchment disappeared.

He reckoned he was about 40 percent of the way through the lot when the five o'clock bell sounded, with ten teams' worth of AARs signed off on. Sighing, he rose from his chair as Owain made for the fireplace.

"I'll see you tomorrow sometime," Harry said. "Depending on how my free time shakes out."

"I'll send someone for you if something urgent happens," the civil servant promised, before Flooing home. Harry shut and locked the office, before making his way to the Great Hall and tucking into dinner.

"How was Dumbledore?" Hermione asked.

"Well enough. Found out a few things I'd rather not have known about my family tree, found out that Tom is going to be even more of a pain in the arse to beat than I had thought, and found out that my Ministry job has _far_ too much paperwork."

"Huh?" Hermione asked. "Paperwork?"

"Oh, he took me down to my office at 4, to let me meet my assistant, who was very quick to point me to my parchment-covered desk. I didn't even get done with half of it before the hour," Harry said. "Dumbledore said he'll start teaching me spells tomorrow."

"Oh," Hermione said, returning to her steak and kidney pie. Harry followed suit, and the rest of the meal passed in relative silence.

"Did you make any progress in that Herbology essay during your free period this morning?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, Nev and I worked on it during free period. He's further along than I am, though, I've only got a few paragraphs," Harry replied.

"Which one are you doing your essay on?"

"Seawlass," Harry said. "It's kind of like poison ivy, except it can kill you."

"Oh," Hermione said, deflating. "I'm planning on doing mine on Gaelthon, since I know more about the potions it's used in."

"Oh," Harry said. "Sorry. How was History?"

"Boring as ever. That ruddy ghost still can't pronounce my name when he bothers to call roll, or call on anyone in the class who's awake enough to have a question," Hermione huffed. "Honestly, Krum pronounced it better than Binns does!"

Harry had to surpress a giggle. "Oh, McGonagall's going to have me demonstrate my Switching Spell in class on Friday," he said. "And told me explicitly not to switch into a swimsuit, so if you want to see that, it'll have to be in private."

Hermione turned red. "Prat."

* * *

_A/N 2: Well? What did you think? I'm thinking ch. 24 will feature some more Knights stuff, a confrontation with Kreacher, and if you're good boys and girls, Harry taking his clothes off. *winks* I'm really sorry this took so long to get to you, and barring this blasted computer interfering and infuriating me further, there should be no further delays._

_Thanks again for your patience!_

_Phoenix II  
_


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: So, apparently I botched something last week when I posted ch. 23 over the author's note. If you're confused about anything in this chapter, I would encourage you to go back a chapter. It explains most of the things in here that already haven't been covered in previous chapters. See you below!  
_

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At the end of the week, Harry was relaxing in his office during his morning free period when he heard a knock on the door. Owain was out doing something involving all the paperwork Harry had finished the previous night. Curious, he called out to his would-be visitor.

"It's Justin," said the visitor.

"Come in!" Harry called, and watched the door open.

He was greeted by a grinning Hufflepuff who rather shamelessly stole Owain's chair to sit in across from Harry.

"So," the Muggleborn began, "I've been absolutely inundated with inquiries about our little exchange in the Great Hall earlier, from people in almost every house."

"Oh?" Harry asked, quite interested.

"Yeah," Justin confirmed. "Or, I suppose I should say, yes sir, or yes milord?"

"You Tory," Harry teased. "I suppose you'll need to get in the habit eventually, but I'm not going to insist on it while we're in school."

"Right," Justin said, taking it in stride. "I got a package from my father today. Care to guess what was in it?"

"It couldn't possibly be that sword around your waist, could it?" Harry asked. Justin grinned, and drew it for Harry's inspection.

"It's an arming sword," Justin said. "Early 14th century design, bought off a blacksmith who makes swords for Army officers. 30 inch double-edged blade, hand-and-a-half grip, made of twice-forged steel. I wanted a longsword, but apparently the cost would be prohibitive. Shame, really. I was going to give it an Elvish name."

"Like in Lord of the Rings?" Harry asked, and Justin nodded. "You know Elvish?" Justin turned red from embarassment.

"I know Sindarin best," he said. "Quenya's way harder, and hardly anything's known of Silvan."

"Well, you can still name it if you want. Sure it's no Anduril, but even the Rohirrim named their swords, didn't they?"

"A couple," Justin conceded. "I suppose I could. I think I know just the name."

"Oh?"

"Mordagnir," the Hufflepuff replied. "It means Dark's Bane, and since I'm going to be using it on Dark Wizards," he began, before Harry interrupted.

"Yeah, it works," the Gryffindor said. "What were you saying earlier?"

"Oh!" Justin exclaimed. "I forgot completely. People have been asking me how they would go about joining."

"Even Slytherins?" Harry asked. "Didn't you say from all Houses?"

"I did! I did indeed. Yeah, they're mostly in the year below us. None of the Darkest families apparently did much reproducing after 1981, big surprise. Apparently living in terror or in Azkaban doesn't do much for your libido."

"Funny," Harry said. "How many?"

"Well, there was Harper, Urquhart and Vaisey from fifth year, and a few of the younger years as well, but I think they'd be a little young," Justin said.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Harper's close to top of his year in DADA, though," Harry said. "At least, from what I've heard."

"You're probably not far off the mark," Justin said. "Of course, Ernie and Zacharias are Hufflepuff-jealous, and would probably join in a heartbeat. Wayne doesn't really have the heart for fighting, but what can you expect from a guy whose father is a diplomat? Terry Boot and Tony Goldstein have been talking a lot with me, and Tony thinks Entwhistle might be interested too."

"Hufflepuff-jealous?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Yeah. We can't really get too out-of-sorts, being Hufflepuffs, but those two are about as close as is possible."

"Well, maybe I should have an interest meeting," Harry said wryly. "See how many we can bring in. Can you come back here this evening?" he asked.

"I should be able to, why?" Justin asked.

"I want to talk with Ron and Neville too, since they're my right and left hands in this."

"Oh, right. That makes sense," Justin said.

"Great, I'll meet up with you after dinner then?" Harry asked.

Justin nodded. "Yeah, d'you want me to let them know if I run into them?"

"If you could," Harry said, knowing that Justin probably would purposefully 'run into them'. Hopefully he would still have some time to better acquaint himself with his new sword. Harry couldn't help but be a bit jealous that Mordagnir was bigger than his own sword.

He didn't have much time to dwell on this newfound jealousy (being Gryffindor, Harry didn't have any Hufflepuff qualms about it) before Professor Dumbledore entered his office (knocking just as he was opening the door).

"Good morning, Harry," the old wizard said. "I was hoping that we could further our discussion from a couple of weeks ago regarding Salazar Slytherin's locket."

"Absolutely!" Harry said. "Have a seat, Professor. What have you found out?"

"Unfortunately, very little. It appears we shall have to interrogate Kreacher after all," Dumbledore said. Sighing, Harry called the elf to him.

"What does filthy half-blood blood-traitor Master want?" the ancient elf simpered.

"You to treat me with a bit of respect, for starters," Harry said. "Your Mistress Walburga is dead, and you are to take no further orders from her. If I find out you've been disobeying or disrespecting me in any way, you can be assured that I will find very innovative ways of punishing you."

Kreacher glared at him, but held his tongue. Dumbledore looked at the young Lord with a slightly disappointed look.

"Now, Kreacher, Professor Dumbledore and I have some questions about the locket you insisted we not throw out last summer," Harry said. Kreacher remained silent, and Harry frowned.

"Why wouldn't you let us get rid of it?" he finally asked, since Kreacher refused to speak without a direct question.

"Because evil locket got poor Master Regulus killed!" the elf shrieked. "Poor Master ordered Kreacher to take the locket and destroy it, before he was dragged under water in dark cave by undead bodies, and Kreacher tried to obey but Kreacher couldn't destroy it!" The old elf started sobbing. Harry and Dumbledore let him cry for a few moments before they continued the questioning.

"How did Regulus know where the locket was?" Dumbledore asked.

"Kreacher told him," the elf said. "He ordered me to go with evil wizard and follow his orders, but to be sure to come back to him at the end. Evil wizard took Kreacher to a big cave, filled with nasty undead abominations under the water of a big lake, and he rowed us to an island in the middle of the lake and made Kreacher drink horrible, foul potion that burned Kreacher's insides. Then evil wizard took evil locket from his robes and placed it in basin where potion came from before Apparating away and leaving Kreacher alone, so Kreacher went back to Master Regulus and was very sick for several days."

"And then you told him about what the evil wizard had made you do?" Harry asked, and Kreacher nodded.

"How did the potion not kill you?" Dumbledore asked. Kreacher glared at the old wizard.

"House-elf magics is being different from wizard stick-magic. Kreacher is being able to survive nasty man-poison."

"Do you know where the locket is?" Harry asked. Kreacher nodded once more. "Is it still in Number Twelve?"

"Yes, Master," Kreacher said. "Kreacher has been keeping it in hopes that he will be able to destroy it one day."

"Could you go and get it for us?" Harry enquired. Kreacher popped away and reappeared a few moments later with the necklace, which he laid on Harry's desk. Harry shivered. It felt just as evil and heavy now as it had the previous summer.

"You said you tried to destroy it?" Harry asked, eyeing it warily. Kreacher nodded again. "How? Professor Dumbledore and I need to know so we don't waste our time trying the same thing."

"Every way Kreacher could think of," the elf said. "He threw it in the fire, but it came out cool; he tried to smash it with a hammer, and a fire poker, and chop it with an axe, but nothing worked. Poor, poor Master Regulus!" With that, Kreacher began sobbing once more.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Dumbledore said. "I think I know the best way to destroy the locket. Harry, if you would draw your sword?"

Harry did so, quite confused.

"Your sword, Harry, was made by the Goblins. As a goblin-forged blade, it has certain qualities that other swords lack, like the ability to repel dust and dirt, and the ability to ...imbibe... anything which would make it stronger."

"You're saying my sword has basilisk venom in it?" Harry asked, looking at the sword with a sense of terror.

"I am indeed. You should merely need to stab the locket for the poison to be delivered and destroy the Horcrux. I would recommend doing so at the clatch," Dumbledore said, casting a Sticking Charm to hold the locket still while Harry thrust forward.

The sword hit the locket right between the halves, and soon the two wizards and the house-elves ears were rent by an ear-piercing shriek of pain as a black mist spat forth from the locket and dissipated in the air.

"That was Voldemort's soul?" Harry asked, not impressed in the slightest.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "I think I shall definitely be bringing you along on any Horcrux-destroying missions, Harry."

"Does wizards who aid Kreacher in fulfilling his Master's last wish need anything else from Kreacher?" the elf asked.

"No, that will be all. Thank you for your help, Kreacher," Harry said. Kreacher, as if offended by Harry's thanks, disappeared. As he did, the bell signaling the end of Harry's free period rang and he rose to exit the office.

"Excuse me, Professor, I need to get to Potions," Harry said, collecting his bag and making for the doorway. Professor Dumbledore stepped aside and allowed him to leave the room, collecting the locket from the desk and placing it in his pocket for what Harry assumed would be further study. He spared no further thought to long-suffering house-elves or Horcruxes while he hurried to the Potions lab in the dungeons.

After Potions came lunch, during which Harry was able to arrange for both Ron and Neville to see him in his office after dinner, and after lunch came Transfiguration. Harry was grinning like an idiot throughout the whole lesson (during which they continued their work on inorganic-to-organic transfiguration), which is probably why McGonagall sounded as apprehensive as she did when she halted the class twenty minutes before the bell.

"Mister Potter, could you come up here please?" she asked. Harry, smiling his winning smile, did as he was told.

"What are you doing up there, Harry?" asked Lavender Brown from the back of the room, where she and Parvati had spent the majority of the class giggling over what Harry assumed was likely a copy of _Teen Witch Weekly_ instead of listening to Professor McGonagall.

"Mister Potter is going to explain for you all, and demonstrate, a new use he has found for one of the basic spells of Transfiguration," McGonagall said.

"Thanks. Everybody in here should be up-to-date on your Switching Spells, right?" Harry asked, to which he received a series of nods from his classmates. "Good, I'm glad none of you got in here without mastering one of the first spells we learn to do.

"Basically, what I've learned how to do is use my magic to perform a switching spell that lets me instantly change clothes," he said, pausing to let his words sink in. "There's not an incantation, and I can do it without my wand, but it requires an enormous amount of concentration, or else you might end up wearing … well, you might end up wearing something it's frowned upon to wear in polite society." There were a few titters as the class realised the implication he had made: that if you did it wrong, you might end up naked.

"It's very much based on your intent. If you can focus your mind on the image of you wearing a different outfit, and putting a little magic into making it happen. Do you want me to demonstrate?"

"Yes!" the class exclaimed, the girls somewhat more enthusiastically than the boys.

"OK. Professor McGonagall has forbidden me from switching into any swimwear, but other than that I'm open to anything any of you wants to suggest."

"Quidditch uniform!" Lavender shouted. Harry smiled and with a pop, his school uniform had disappeared, replaced by the scarlet and gold robes of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Tuxedo!" another girl suggested. Harry didn't actually own one, so the spell was trickier as he had to concentrate on his measurements as well, but with a pop he was in a tuxedo. He hoped Magic hadn't nicked it from a bloke in the middle of his wedding.

"Leather pants!" Seamus shouted, causing the Gryffindor boys to laugh. Harry chuckled along with them before switching into a form-fitting green T-shirt and a pair of very tight leather pants.

"See anything you like, Seamus?" he asked, adopting a seductive tone.

"Lose the underwear, Potter," Seamus said, "and we'll see if I like." Cocky grin firmly in place, Harry wished away his underwear. Seamus' eyes bulged out for a moment before Harry had switched into jeans (with underwear), much to the disappointment of almost everyone in the class. That switch was followed by a request that had him cosplaying an Auror before he had to turn down a request to switch into a male stripper's outfit.

Professor McGonagall stopped the demonstrations there, having recovered from Harry's audacity in fulfilling Seamus' requests.

"So yeah, that's basically it," he finished up. "If any of you want to try it out in your dorms, feel free, and if you need any … one-on-one help, you can see me after class and we'll try to set it up."

"That's quite enough, thank you Mister Potter," McGonagall said, indicating that Harry should sit back down. Smiling at her, he did, while the rest of the class tittered about his offer of one-on-one assistance.

"Class dismissed," McGonagall announced, after setting them further reading on inorganic-to-organic transfiguration. "Potter, stay back." The rest of the class filed out, and Harry remained at his desk.

"Very clever way of getting around my warning, Potter," the Transfiguration Professor said. "I think you may have broken Mister Finnegan, and you may be up to your neck in solicitations by the end of the day, but I cannot allow you to go around the school with your … assets … on display. Five points from Gryffindor, Mister Potter, and don't let it happen in public again."

Harry was grinning from ear to ear. "I won't, Professor."

"You're dismissed, Potter. Mustn't keep Professor Dumbledore waiting, after all." Harry left the transfiguration classroom and headed for the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, there you are, Harry," Dumbledore said once he arrived. "I have been examining the Horcrux you destroyed this morning. I believe, given time, it might be possible to use its magical signature to locate similar objects."

"It would certainly save us a considerable amount of time," Harry said. "So, what are we learning about today, Headmaster?" he asked.

"I thought I would begin teaching you Battle Transfiguration today," Dumbledore said. At Harry's quizzical expression, Dumbledore elaborated. "Battle Transfiguration is a particularly useful skill to know in combat, and a Master at the art will even be able to alter his opponents' spells. I would like to demonstrate, Harry. If you would stand in the doorway and cast a Reductor Curse at me, I shall show you some of what can be done with Battle Transfiguration."

Harry did as he was asked, and watched as his curse was intercepted by the chair he had previously been sitting in, which exploded into splinters, which became large angry dogs that were snarling at Harry, but which thankfully did not attack.

"That is battle transfiguration," Dumbledore said, turning the dogs back into chair splinters and reforming those into a chair, which Harry sat in, noting no difference from before, as though the chair had not been shattered and turned into dogs before being turned back.

"Now, imagine the situation back in the Ministry," Dumbledore said. "You recall when Tom shattered all that glass and sent it flying at us?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But didn't you just shield?"

"I did," Dumbledore said. "But I was quite tired at the time. Had I more strength, or had you known how to do so, one or both of us could have transfigured it all into weapons against him."

"But what if I don't have any debris to work with?" Harry asked. "Like, if I'm just in a house."

"You make some," Dumbledore said simply. "Unless the room you're in is heavily warded, you should be able to destroy the walls and floors with reductor curses, leaving you plenty of debris to work with, unless your opponent is astute enough to recognise what you are doing and Vanishes the debris."

Harry looked excited. "Sounds like fun," he finally said.

"You'll be learning a charm in October, _oppugno_," Dumbledore said. "It will be the final key in your understanding of battle transfiguration. Without learning that charm, you would be limited to inorganic-to-inorganic transfigurations and banishing charms to attempt to do damage. Once you learn it, you can use it on inorganic-to-organic transfigurations to give them the task of attacking your opponent."

"So it's like a simple animation?" Harry asked.

"Very simple," Dumbledore answered, "as it only instills in the animated item the desire to attack, which they will continue to do until they are destroyed."

"But yours didn't attack," Harry pointed out, quite astutely in his opinion.

"Of course not, my dear boy, I did not want them to," Dumbledore said. "The animation charm I used merely gave them the ability to snarl and the desire to intimidate you. It is something you will learn the basics of around Easter."

"Oh," Harry said.

"If you will follow me, Harry, I should like to adjourn to a place better equipped for such lessons than my office," Dumbledore said, rising and making for the exit to his office. Harry followed suit.

When the bell for dinner rang, Harry and Dumbledore emerged from the Room of Requirement. Harry was looking rather worse for wear, and quickly changed into a different outfit for dinner. Sadly, there was nothing he could do for the worse-than-usual appearance of his hair.

"That could have gone better," Harry groused.

"I believe it went very well, for a first lesson," Dumbledore said, smoothing out his own untouched robes. "I recall my first lesson in this particular subject ended with me spending a week in hospital courtesy of the Transfiguration Master I studied under."

Harry gawked. There had been someone capable of doing that much damage to Dumbledore? A young Dumbledore?

"I was, of course, rather fresh out of Hogwarts at the time," the Headmaster said. "A lad of twenty, and Master Bishop had a well-deserved reputation as a very strict teacher. He was probably the best Transfiguration Master of the 19th Century, and it was a privilege to be allowed to apprentice under him."

Harry took that information and mulled over it on his way to dinner. He knew he was being granted a great privilege in studying with Professor Dumbledore who – though he would likely be the type to deny it – was most likely the best transfiguration master of the 20th Century, and arguably – as Harry had called him within the Chamber while sparring with the shade of Riddle – the greatest Sorcerer in the world. He was certain that most of the Hogwarts faculty were Masters in their fields of instruction: Slughorn in Potions, Flitwick in Charms, McGonagall in Transfiguration, Sprout in Herbology, the Runes and Arithmancy Professors for sure. Snape he wasn't so sure about; sure he knew a lot about the Dark Arts and thus, theoretically, what the best defence against them would be, but was he a Defence Master? He highly doubted Trelawney held any sort of qualifications, and had no idea about Binns or the Muggle Studies Professor.

He was still thinking when he made his way back to his office after dinner, Ron, Neville and Justin in tow.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked, after Harry made enough chairs for the group.

"Justin came to me this morning with some interesting news, and I wanted your and Neville's input on the idea we came up with after he told me."

"Alright," Neville said. Harry motioned for Justin to begin, and he zoned out while the Muggleborn told the two Purebloods about how he was being approached by other students about joining the Knights, and at the end related the idea of an interest meeting.

"Most of them were in the DA, weren't they?" Neville asked.

"All but the Slytherins, I think," Harry said. "But then, it wasn't in their interests to join the DA last year."

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked. "It wasn't in their interests to learn defence?"

"No, that would have been, but learning defence with non-Slytherins wouldn't have been," Harry said. "Now that the worst of the bigots in the House are either gone or marginalised, sensible thoughts and practices can take root and grow. Maybe in a generation, Slytherin will be just another House."

"Well, I don't know about THAT, mate, but I think if some of 'em want to join us, that would go a long way towards helping Slytherin's dark image," Ron said. "I don't see anything wrong with an interest meeting."

"Me either," Neville said. "When and where were you thinking?"

"Somewhere private, and whenever," Justin said.

"Not in a pub on a Saturday afternoon?" Ron asked with a grin. "But that worked so well last time!" All four boys laughed.

"I suppose we could do it tomorrow in the Room of Requirement, after dinner," Harry said. "If you think you could spread the word in time, Justin."

The Muggleborn grinned, pulling out a few sheets of parchment from his satchel.

"Way ahead of you, Harry. It's a message like the one you sent me last month, only needing your signature and the details of the meeting. I'll send 'em off with school owls tonight, and we'll see how many plus-ones we get."

"Yeah OK," Harry said, grabbing an inkwell and quill as he took the parchments from Justin and made short work out of them. They'd been addressed to the three Slytherins he'd mentioned, Ernie MacMillian, Zach Smith, Terry Boot, Tony Goldstein and Kevin Entwhistle. Harry made a mental note to spread the word to a few Gryffindors as well, so that his own house had some representation at the meeting. When he was finished, he handed the parchments back to Justin to owl off.

"Anything else you wanted to talk about, Harry?" Neville asked.

"No, that was it," Harry said. "Let's go watch Ron trounce somebody in chess," he suggested, standing up from behind the desk as his Knights followed suit, leaving the office and returning to their respective Common Rooms, Justin by way of the Owlery.

The next day would be interesting.

* * *

_A/N: Before you start in on me about Seamus, I did hint about it in Ch. 21, and no, Harry is not going to be going around shagging boys (or be going around getting shagged by them). Harry, like most teenage boys, likes boobs, and will thus enjoy private Switching lessons with the girls, until he gets taken off the market (which will happen rather soon). Next chapter, there will be a recruiting spiel, and maybe a confrontation or two. I'm not quite sure yet._

_Til then,_

_Phoenix II  
_


	25. Chapter 25

Harry awoke early the next morning, wanting to be down in the Great Hall when Justin's invitations arrived. He noted that he was the first of his group to arrive before sitting at approximately where Sixth Year Gryffindors sat and loading up his plate with eggs and bacon, waiting for the others and the mail.

Hermione came down an hour after Harry, who was by now reading the _Daily Prophet_ and sipping tea.

"Anything interesting today?" she asked, loading up her own plate.

"No, not really," Harry said. "Headline's something about the Ministry re-visiting the list of illegal potions ingredients, and that's about the best piece in here that's not about Quidditch."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the mention of sport. "I might go hang out with Draco later, the Falcons are at Puddlemere today and he's bound to listen to it on wireless."

"He's a Falmouth fan?" Neville asked, butting into the conversation as he joined Harry and Hermione at the breakfast table.

"Yeah, pretty vocal too. What's your team?" Harry asked curiously.

"Puddlemere, actually," Neville said. "You think he'd mind me tagging along?"

"Doubt it," Harry said. "You'd at least provide some intelligent conversation. When the Falcons played the Cannons, and I had Ron over, they just talked smack the whole time. It was pretty awkward for me."

"OK then, count me in," Neville said, as Harry passed off the news section of the _Prophet_ to Hermione and started reading the match preview for Falmouth at Puddlemere.

Ron arrived the same time as the mail began to arrive, and Harry noted with glee that those who had been sent invitations seemed rather eager to attend the meeting, as did a few of the people around them. Then, he was stricken by a thought.

"Hermione?" he asked, turning to his friend, who looked up from her toast to answer.

"What, Harry?" she replied.

"I just had a thought," he said, and – cutting off her mock astonishment – continued, "have you been giving thought to recruiting Auxiliaries?"

"No, actually, I hadn't," she said, looking confused. "Is this because of why half the Hufflepuff table is ecstatic about something?"

"Kind of," Harry said. "I'm starting a recruiting drive, I figured you might want to start one of your own. You can come to our meeting tonight after dinner, just in case some of the girls show up."

"Gee, thanks, Harry," Hermione said. "Nice to know you're so sure I've got nothing else to do tonight."

"It's Saturday," Harry replied.

"Yes, yes it is," Hermione replied. "But I was planning on trying to translate the rune cluster Professor Babbling assigned for homework yesterday."

"When's it due?" Harry asked.

"Next Friday," Hermione replied. Harry gave her a look that just screamed 'are you kidding me?'. "But it's difficult Harry. I wasn't planning on doing the entire thing tonight, but any explanation would be wasted on you since you didn't take Runes."

Ignoring the slight on his course choices, Harry pressed on. "It'll take an hour tops, c'mon, Hermione. Would you rather get it done all at once or be accosted by girls at random points from now until Christmas?"

She pursed her lips. "Fine, I'll be there," she said. Any further comment by Harry was interrupted by the arrival of two large owls carrying a very thick-looking package. They dropped it in front of him and glared at him in a very owlish fashion – blaming him for all the work they had done – and took off once more.

Harry looked puzzled, as did his tablemates.

"What's that, then?" Ron asked, as Harry took a knife and slit open the wrapping, then the box. Atop what appeared to be a massive stack of parchment was a letter.

_Milord Potter,_ it began

_Pursuant to your direction of 4 August, myself and members of my staff have begun work on the action you indicated you wished us to pursue. Enclosed is a copy of what was filed with the Wizengamot yesterday afternoon listing your case against _The Prophet_. It turned out to be a very long job, going through fifteen years' worth of newspaper clippings pertaining to you and picking out each and every libelous statement, but we have done so. Due to the voluminous nature of their offences (by our count, over 1500; half of that total coming in the past three years), I decided to up the amount we would seek in monetary damages from 2 bn to 4 bn Galleons. _

_As an aid, there is a table of contents to help you navigate through the filing, should you desire to do so. The good stuff is on pages 4-456. We included an appendix with copies of the articles in question, should you desire to see what was written about you pre-1991._

_Yours in service,_

_Solomon Cooper, Esq._

Harry grinned.

"This is what's going to give me my very own newspaper," he said, hefting the filing (which had been styled like a book, with a hard cover and a very stout spine) out of the box. He saw a hungry glint in Hermione's eye at the amount of parchment.

"What d'you mean, mate," Ron asked, confused, while Hermione snatched the letter from Harry's hands.

"I'm suing the _Prophet_ for libel, Ron," Harry explained. "And seeking four billion Galleons in damages."

"So they have to pay you four billion Galleons for telling all those lies about you?" Ron asked.

"Basically, yeah," Harry said. "But there's no way they have four billion Galleons on hand, so they're going to have to give me all their cash, and when they can't give me cash, they'll have to give me stock, and when they run out of stock, I'll have so much that the paper will be mine."

"1500 separate instances of libel?" Hermione asked, astonished.

"Apparently," Harry said. "I'm certainly not going to be reading them all, but if it takes 452 pages to describe them all, I'm certain I don't want to. Except maybe the stuff from the time I was off in a cupboard in Surrey. I'm rather curious to know how I was libeled without even being in the Wizarding world to do anything worth writing about."

"Probably insulting you for being off on a beach in Morocco or somewhere where they can't photograph you," Neville quipped.

"Why Morocco?" Harry asked. Neville shrugged.

"First country that came to mind," he said. Harry shrugged as well, and they finished their breakfasts in peace. Hermione absconded with the filing, and Harry and Neville set out in search of Draco, leaving Ron with the explanation of "we want to listen to the Puddlemere match," which he understood, and got a look in his face that suggested he would be searching out a wireless to listen to the Cannons match.

"What do you want?" Draco asked as they approached him in the entrance hall.

"We wanna listen to Quidditch," Harry said. "Nev's a Puddlemere fan, and I just want to listen to the match. And see the Slytherin Common Room again."

"What d'you mean, again?" Draco asked. "When were you there before?"

"Second year," Harry said, and didn't elaborate. Draco raised an eyebrow and beckoned them to follow him. They got a few curious looks as they made their way into the dungeons, and a few downright hostile looks as they entered the Slytherin Common Room following Draco's speaking of the password.

"Morning, everyone!" Harry cheerfully announced. "We're just here to listen to some Quidditch, don't mind us!"

"Get the hell out of here, Potter!" a seventh-year (by the looks of him) Harry didn't know yelled.

"I'm hurt," Harry said, mock-affronted. "What have I done to deserve such treatment?"

"Had our parents arrested?" the seventh-year replied.

"Not my fault your parents are terrorists," Harry shot back. "Magical Britain is not just for racist purebloods, and no matter where you come from, killing people because they're different from you is murder, and illegal. People who break the law deserve to get arrested."

"My parents didn't kill anybody!" the boy insisted.

"The tattoos on their arms claim differently," Harry replied. "I've been in Tom Riddle's head. I know what's required to earn the Dark Mark. Your parents killed people, and they did not do so in any sort of honourable fashion."

The seventh-year didn't say another word, but he did make the mistake of trying to curse Harry. The Gryffindor's shields absorbed the curse, and the seventh-year was dropped by stunners from three fifth-years, who looked at Harry like dogs expecting a treat for fetching the paper.

"Harper, Urquhart, and Vaisey?" Harry asked, and the boys nodded.

"Thanks," he told them. "Will I see you three this evening."

"Definitely!" Harper replied, and the other two nodded their heads vigorously.

While Harry had been arguing with the seventh-year about his parents, Draco had made his way over to the large wireless set in the Slytherin common room and switched it over to the Falmouth match, commandeering three seats near it for himself, Harry, and Neville.

"You're not going to be obnoxious as Weasel was if you win, are you?" he asked Neville, who shook his head.

"No. You're not going to be as obnoxious as Ron if you win, are you?" Neville asked back, and Draco looked at him calculatingly.

"Perish the thought," he said. Harry just relaxed and listen to the voice of the announcer – a different one from the last time, he noted idly – as he went through the starting lineups. He gave an approving nod when it was announced that Oliver Wood would be starting for Puddlmere, while the rest of the Falmouth fans in Slytherin (it turned out there were quite a few) all cringed.

"What?" Harry asked innocently. "He's only the best British keeper in the last fifty years, and one of just three British Keepers playing in the League, isn't he?" They all nodded, albeit quite reluctantly in some of their cases, and Harry settled back. "Could be worse, Youngblood and d'Arcy could both be starting," he commented, and they groaned.

Then the match began, and they quickly quieted down, while those who were fans of neither side headed to their rooms and personal wireless sets.

Falmouth's Chasers won the Quaffle first, for all the good it did them, thanks to Ollie Wood. Harry's old teammate was just as good as advertised, failing to bite on the attempted misdirection play and blocking Will Fleitch's attempt on his left goal. Ten seconds later, Puddlemere was up 10-nil, and Harry and Neville were grinning at each other.

Twenty minutes later, with Puddlemere up 90-10 (thanks to a Bludger that had somehow deflected the Quaffle around Ollie and through the hoop), Harry called for an elf and asked if some snacks could be brought to the Slytherin Common Room. Five minutes later, the Slytherin common room was full of nuts and fruits. Harry grinned and popped a fistful of peanuts into his mouth as Puddlemere easily converted a penalty to go up 150-10, much to the Slytherin's chagrin.

It took another hour before there was any mention of the Golden Snitch, when Falmouth's seeker Youngblood managed to goad Puddlemere's Seeker into following him in what the announcers described as "a perfect Wronski Feint" that resulted in a long time-out in order to help the concussed Seeker off the pitch and allow for the reserve Seeker to be substituted in (and give the rest of the players a chance to take some water).

Then, a mere thirty seconds after the players returned to the skies, the match was over. By pure chance, the reserve Seeker had taken to the air right next to the Golden Snitch, and noticed this just after the referee blew his whistle to resume play. He reached out, grabbed the little ball, and ended the game, much to the astonishment of everybody.

Final Score: Puddlemere United 360-30 Falmouth.

All the Slytherins groaned. To them, it felt like Harry's first three years at Hogwarts condensed into 90 minutes, with the Keeping brilliance of Ollie Wood making it damn near impossible for any opposing side to score on him, coupled with the pure dumb luck of an opposing Seeker catching the Snitch without displaying any true skill.

"Ah, cheer up, guys," Harry said, cheerfully. "You might be mid-table, only have won two of your first five League matches, lost along the way to fucking Chudley, of all sides, but at least you're dominating Europe!"

The Slytherins didn't seem too consoled by this.

"Neville," Harry said, looking over his shoulder at his fellow Gryffindor while trying to keep an eye on all the increasingly hostile Slytherins.

"Yeah Harry?"

"I think it might be time for a tactical withdrawal," Harry said.

"Right-o," Neville said, and they made their way to the entrance to the Slytherin common room, facing the scowling faces of their hosts the whole while. The curses only started flying as they opened the door, but between Harry and Neville, their shields intercepted them all and allowed the two Lions to escape the Viper Pit.

The rest of the day passed without much note. Harry spent most of it in the library working on his first Defence essay of the term, two feet of parchment on the theory behind, and practical application of, wordless casting. It was a real pain to write, since one half the material in the library was at odds with the other half on both the theory and application of wordless casting, but between rather large (and sloppy) handwriting and large words, Harry managed to finish the essay just before dinner.

After dinner, he, Ron, Neville, Justin and Hermione headed up to the seventh floor, followed at a distance by a gaggle of students.

Going through the now-familiar ritual of pacing three times back and forth in the hall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, Harry created a room to hold a meeting in. He was more surprised than anything to walk into a recreation of the Convocation Chamber of the Scarlet Knights, as he had been in it.

"Cool place, Harry!" Ron said. "It's got a round table and everything!"

"This is exactly like in Avebury," Harry told them, taking his throne-like seat, and bidding Ron and Neville to sit on either side of him as he surveyed the walls. Justin chose to sit next to Neville.

"Even the portraits are the same," he remarked, seeing James Potter wink at him. "How's things, Dad?"

"Fantastic!" James said. "Why are you back already?"

"I'm not, I'm at Hogwarts," Harry said. "There's this room on the seventh floor that can turn into any other room, and I apparently had it turn into a copy of the Convocation Chamber."

"Oh. What are you doing, then?" James asked.

"Having a recruiting meeting," Harry said simply. "We sent invitations to eight more, plus allowed for plus-ones. Hermione's here just in case we get a few girls interested in being Auxiliaries."

"Oh," James said. "Is that the one your mum doesn't approve of?"

"No, that's Ginny," Harry said. "Hermione's the one that was over a couple times."

"Oh, right," James said. "The one she does approve of."

Both Harry and Hermione turned slightly red as the first of the invitees poked their heads in.

"Shut up, Dad," Harry ordered, silently casting a Sobering Charm on himself not to alleviate any alcohol in his system, but to make himself appear stern after his brief embarrassment. James did as Harry instructed, and at Harry's signal 15 students walked in: ten boys, five girls. Harry recognised Ernie MacMillian and Zach Smith, Terry Boot and Tony Goldstein. Kevin Entwhistle was a peripheral figure in most of his classes, but Harry figured that he was the third Ravenclaw recruited based on the house badge on his robes. He was followed by the three Slytherins, and his final two dorm mates, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who were followed by Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, and a Slytherin girl Harry's brain only belatedly identified as Daphne Greengrass.

"Is that all?" Harry asked, and Daphne nodded, shutting the door behind her with a rather ominous sounding thud. The Slytherin nodded.

"Alright then," Harry said. "Good evening all, and welcome to this replica of the Convocation Chamber of the Order of the Scarlet Knights of Avebury. You all know who I am, and at the risk of bungling my own titles and forms of address, I shall leave it there. To my right is Sir Ron Weasley, to my left are Sir Neville Longbottom, Scion of the House of Longbottom and Viscount of Something-or-Other, sorry Nev, I forgot; and Sir Justin Finch-Fletchey, Knight Companion of the Scarlet Knights. Not in attendance tonight are Sirs Fred and George Weasley, but they are excused since I forgot to owl them."

The rest of the group chuckled at Harry's slip-ups.

"Standing in the corner over there is Miss Hermione Granger PC, who is the Head of the Auxiliaries, which is what I will simply call the girls' group, not trying to offend or anything, it's just the way the magic works. So Susan, Hannah, Luna, Ginny and Daphne, if you would?" he asked, and the girls made their way over to Hermione.

"Alright, so. Guys. You think you wanna fight Death Eaters?" he asked. His question was met with a mixture of mostly enthusiastic "yeah"s from the ten boys.

"Why?" he asked, pointing at Ernie first, who was seated furthest left.

"First and foremost because it's the right thing to do," the Hufflepuff said, "but also because Clan MacMillian is and always shall be allies of the House of Potter. It is my duty to my Clan to help you in your fight, milord," he added, inclining his head to Harry, who recalled his Family History chats with George Potter's painting in the Manor.

Zach went next. "Because if Justin and Ernie are going to, I'm going to," he said. "And, erm, also, because it's the right thing to do." Justin snorted. Harry glared at him before pointing to Terry.

"Because half my mum's family was killed by those bastards twenty years ago," the Ravenclaw said fiercely. "They deserve what you're givin' 'em, Harry." Harry gave him a nod, then indicated Tony.

"Because they're wizard Nazis," Anthony Goldstein said, "and if there's one thing I'm not going to tolerate in my world, it's people who think their blood is better than anyone elses."

A chorus of "hear hear!" rang out at this statement. Kevin Entwhistle followed the statement rather lacklustrely.

"I heard we get swords and armour," he said with a shrug. "Sounds cool." The rest of the boys, Justin and (rather hypocritically, at least to Harry) Ron especially, rolled their eyes. Harry's finger next pointed out the Slytherin Harper.

"Because they're slandering Slytherin House," the fifth-year said, and his answer was repeated by Urquhart and Vaisey.

"How so?" Harry asked, having a feeling as to the reason but wanting the Slytherins to explain themselves.

"Their actions aren't cunning at all," Harper said. "They've got ambition in spades, but they're going about it the wrong way. We for the most part thing Dumbledore is an idiot, but … Tom Riddle," the boy said, forcing himself to say the name Harry's way, "is insane, and none of the three of us were raised to treat the insane with anything but the utmost caution."

"Are you Light?" the booming voice of Godric Gryffindor asked from above Harry.

Harper looked up, as did Urquhart and Vaisey.

"Grey, milord," he replied after a moment. "As are my friends."

"Grey!" Gryffindor exclaimed. "Amazing. And you made it into Salazar's House?"

"Who as a group could possibly be more cunning than the Grey?" Harper asked the portrait. "We are simultaneously the most revered and least trusted group of Wizards in the world. Revered for our ability to cast either Dark or Light spells, and not trusted for the same reason."

"Very true," Gryffindor mused. "And such is the case with myself as well. Sir Harry, if you could humour me and check the claims of these three? The incantation is _Magia Affinitas_."

Harry drew his wand and cast the spell three times. Each Slytherin was surrounded by a stormcloud-grey aura.

"Cool," Ron breathed. "Greys!" The Slytherins shot him a withering glare.

"I am satisfied," Godric said. "They may join if they so desire." Satisfied himself, Harry indicated that Seamus, then Dean should speak. Both gave very Gryffindor answers: Seamus because he wanted to kill those who looked down on his witch mother for marrying his Muggle father, Dean because he wanted to kill those who wanted to kill him for being a Muggle-born.

"Very well," Harry said. "I am more than happy to accept all of you as members of my Company. Seamus, Dean, Ernie, Tony, and Harper, you will join Fred, George, and Justin as Knights Companion, while Zach, Terry, Kevin, Urquhart and Vaisey shall be Knights Member. You will be spending most of your Christmas hols in Avebury training. Is that a problem for anyone?"

They all shook their heads 'no'.

"Excellent. Godric will administer your vows. Swords are over against the wall," Harry said, pointing to a small set of swords that had materialised against the far wall. All but Justin walked over and collected one before following Godric's instructions to swear themselves into the Scarlet Knights. All the girls but two left at this time, Daphne Greengrass and Susan Bones remained, eyeing Harry. He payed them little mind, assuming they were waiting for boyfriends and would depart with them.

After the boys were sworn in, Harry dismissed them with a warning to expect an owl or two over the next few weeks from him for information and things related to armour fittings and preliminary training, and a promise to solicit from Hermione three new DA Galleons for the Slytherins. Then the rest of the boys left, and the girls remained.

Harry approached them curiously.

"Something I can help you with?" he asked. They both grinned at him.

"Why yes, Harry," Daphne purred. "We're both having difficulty with that clothes-changing technique you demonstrated in Transfiguration yesterday, and were wondering if you could...help us practice."

As if on cue, the Room of Requirement shifted into a rather large bedroom.

Harry grinned. "I'd be more than happy to," he said. "Shall we?"

* * *

_A/N: I don't think I need to explain for most of you what happens next, so I shan't go into further detail on it. The next chapter will arrive in your inboxes 20 Sept., and will feature Quidditch and some more Battle Transfiguration, and Harry getting a steady girlfriend. I think I've dropped enough hints throughout the story (including in this chapter) for you sharp people reading this to figure out who she is._

_Also, in personal news, I think I've got a job locked down working for a magazine. Woo money!_

_And as always, regardless of your views, I look forward to reading your opinions on the story. Hit that green-ish button below and leave a review!  
_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	26. Chapter 26

_**A/N: So I just want to apologise in advance here for the shortness of this update. I've been rather busy over the past 10 days as school's started to kick it into high gear, and all the hullabaloo surrounding actually getting started on my job (starts today, actually). And to top it all off, with only 500 words written on Friday, I got sick over the weekend. So everything after Dumbledore and Harry at the start was very hard to write.  
**_

**_A side note: I am never drinking Maker's Mark again. More notes at the bottom.

* * *

_**Another week found Harry standing opposite from Professor Dumbledore in the Room of Requirement, and a red rubber ball hovering in the air between them.

"Today, Harry, we will work on improving your co-ordination and control over your magic. We will begin by transfiguring this ball and sending it back and forth between each other, slowly at first, and increasingly faster. At various points, I will add additional balls for you to transfigure. It would be best if you did not transfigure animals. I will promise to do the same," the Headmaster said. Harry nodded.

"Are you prepared?" Dumbledore asked. Harry dropped into a dueling stance.

"I'm prepared," he said. Dumbledore transfigured the ball into a knife and banished it towards Harry, who transfigured the knife into a spear and sent it the other way. The spear became a throwing star, which became a brick, then a lance, then an axe, then a knife, then a bowling pin, a bowling ball, a big rock, a bigger rock, an arrow, and then an encyclopaedia. As Harry transfigured the encyclopaedia into a mess of darts, Dumbledore released the second ball, transfiguring both the ball and the darts into shards of glass and sending them at Harry.

Harry found he was enjoying this, and he continued to play this game with the headmaster for another half-hour, even as Dumbledore added several additional objects into the mix. Harry, for his part, made his return volleys smaller and more numerous with each turn. Finally, Dumbledore called an end to the game by turning Harry's 1000 splinters into a chair and sitting in it.

"That was very good, Harry," Dumbledore said, as Harry transfigured a scrap of parchment in his pocket into a chair for himself. "You're picking this up quite quickly."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "I rather enjoyed that."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "Now you should be exercised enough to tackle casting the spell I hope to instruct you in today."

"A new spell, sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Since I do not wish to usurp Filius' instruction of you in Charms, more complicated forms of Battle Transfiguration shall have to wait until after Halloween. Until then, I think you will be interested in learning how to incant, and control, the Flame Whip."

Harry shifted forward in his seat. "Wicked."

"Yes, it is that. And as powerful as you are, this will be a powerful tool in your arsenal. I daresay if you wish it, you could use the Flame Whip to do serious damage to your target."

"Let's get started," Harry said eagerly, rising and Vanishing the chair. Dumbledore did so, and began instructing Harry on the incantation and wand movement necessary to cast one of the old Headmaster's signature spells.

* * *

The next day saw Harrry, Ron, and Katie Bell standing on the Quidditch Pitch in front of a scraggly group of would-be team members. Harry recognised Ginny, but the rest were just faces he'd seen from time to time in the Common Room.

'I really ought to change that,' he thought to himself, before collecting himself and getting their attention.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Harry said. "As the posting in the common room said, we're looking for two Chasers and two Beaters. Those of you wanting to play Chaser will be going with Katie and Ron, and they'll put you through your paces, Beaters, you'll be with me. Any questions?"

"I wanna try for Keeper," a large sandy-haired boy said.

"That position's not open," Harry retorted. "You're more than welcome to stay and try for Beater, you look like you have the build for it."

"You really think Weasley's the best Keeper you can get?" the boy persisted.

"I'm perfectly satisfied with my Keeper," Harry said in an even tone. "If you wanted to play Keeper, you should have tried out last year."

"I had dragon pox," the boy seethed.

"Too bad," Harry said. "If you're just going to whinge, get off my pitch. Otherwise, get in with the Beaters or the Chasers." Sulking, the boy joined the Beaters, glaring bloody murder at Harry.

'Well, this'll be fun,' he thought as he took to the air, the Beater prospects promptly following him. Ron and Katie let the Bludgers out of their restraints and they immediately flew off with the Quaffle. Harry had two of the Beater candidates who weren't the large sandy-haired boy direct them towards one end of the pitch, leaving plenty of space for Ron and Katie to try out Chasers at the other end without fear of being struck by the angry iron balls.

For Harry, the next hour was spent performing a ridiculous amount of aerial acrobatics to avoid the Bludgers hit at him, and he was quite satisfied when halfway through the big sandy-haired boy – who had proven himself to be a spectacular git, presuming to lecture the younger boys on the 'proper beating technique' until Jimmy Peakes had smacked one right at him while he was busy yelling at a second year, knocking him off his broom. Harry had immediately allotted the boy one of the Beater's spots. His partner for the year would alternate between two third-years, as they were both of similar skill. One would be a reserve, just in case he was needed.

At the end, the git was escorted off the pitch (still screaming at Harry to let him play Keeper), and Ron and Katie informed him that she had chosen Demelza Robins and Ginny to complete the Chaser trio. Demelza and Ginny would be playing weak-side and centre Chaser respectively, while Katie played the strong side.

* * *

Their first match was three weeks later, against the Draco Black-captained Slytherin team. Ron had been in his element describing the various strategies and ploys the team had been practicing. He had even gone so far as to plot the Gryffindor team's first five possessions, expertly instructing the Chasers on which formations and plays to run when, and instructing the Beaters to simply cause havoc whenever possible.

"Potter," Draco said as they shook hands on the ground. "We need to talk after this."

"Sure," Harry said. "I'll make this quick," he added, grinning at Draco, who promptly scowled and gripped Harry's hand probably a little harder than he otherwise would have.

They took to the air, and Harry smirked when Ron's game plan worked to perfection, letting Gryffindor go up 50-nil early while discombobulating the Slytherin's centre-Chaser with a double Bludger strike.

After an hour, the score stood at 130-20, with both Slytherin goals coming off penalties. Draco was splitting time between searching for the Snitch and aiding his Chasers, while Harry was able to simply cruise around looking for the Snitch and dodge the occasional Bludger. It was during one such dodge that, while leading the Bludger into the back of a Slytherin Beater, he spied the Snitch flittering around the teacher's stand. Looking around quickly, he saw Draco trying to orchestrate an attack on the Gryffindor goals, completely ignorant of the Snitch. Harry put on a burst of speed and headed right for the Snitch.

Some of the adults were surprised to see Harry barreling towards them, but there were three who leaning forward in their seats to see what he was doing. He didn't recognise any of them, and thus presumed them to be scouts. Pushing Draco's talk of professional or international Quidditch out of his mind, he deftly checked his broom and swerved just in time to avoid slamming into the adults and snatching the Snitch from right under Professor Snape's nose.

"I'll take that, Professor," Harry said with a grin as Snape scowled at him, raising his arm to signal that he'd caught the Snitch to Madame Hooch, who promptly blew her whistle to end the game, with Gryffindor winning 340 to 50.

"That was fantastic!" one of the scouts, who reminded Harry of Barty Crouch Senior, exclaimed. "Have you given thought to playing professionally?"

"What teams are you with?" Harry asked.

"Appleby," said faux-Barty Crouch.

"Montrose," said a rather stocky red-head in a non-disguised Scottish brogue.

"England," said the third, a rather non-descript man Harry would have pegged as a Nigel. "You know we're in the run-up to the Continental Cup, right?"

"Actually, I didn't," Harry said. "But I guess it's interesting. You all do know I'm only a sixth year, right?"

"Yes," they answered in unsion. "But Viktor Krum was only 17 when he played in the World Cup for Bulgaria," Nigel added.

"I'm no Viktor," Harry said. "He's a better seeker than I could ever hope to be."

"We could really use you," Nigel pressed, imagining the honors he would get from the Ministry if he talked Harry into trying out for England. "At least for the World Cup in two years."

"I'll think about it," Harry said. "If you'll excuse me, my friends are waiting." And he flew off, landing and heading for the locker room.

* * *

Upon leaving the locker room, he was met by Draco, who led him to an empty classroom.

"I think Teddy Nott is a Death Eater," he said. Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"D'you remember what that Auror told you in the carriage?" Draco asked. "That they'd had some cursed jewelry and poison off him when they searched him, but that he wasn't Marked?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But I didn't think anything of it. Don't you all have cursed items and poison in your trunks in Slytherin?"

Draco glared at him. "No, we don't."

"Oh." Draco rolled his eyes.

"The point is," he said, "I think he was left unMarked by the Dark Lord to avoid being arrested and allow him to avoid suspicion of him being a Death Eater. But there's something off about him. He's never been the most social person, but he's been even more withdrawn and pale lately, and he disappears for long stretches of time almost every day. He won't even talk to Greengrass and Davis, who've been as close as he's had to friends."

"You think he came here under orders to do something for the Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"It may sound far-fetched, but listen. The Malfoys and the Notts were always close to each other, but within the last two generations the Malfoys gained greater wealth and prestige, as well as favour with the Dark Lord, while the Notts declined. Ted's father was killed towards the end of the first war, so his Grandfather remains head of the Family but has declined in importance to the Dark Lord. Now that Lucius' is dead and the Malfoy family disbanded, Ted and old Lord Nott may have decided to make a play for the Dark Lord's favour and proposed to use Ted as an agent within Hogwarts to achieve some goal of his," Draco said.

"Can you give me anything more than suspicions?" Harry asked. Draco deflated.

"No," he said, sullenly. "He won't talk to me either."

"I'll watch out for him on the Map, see if I can find out where he's going. I hope you're wrong, Draco," Harry said.

"Will you tell Dumbledore?" Draco asked.

"Should I?" Harry asked.

"Shouldn't you?" Draco retorted. "He could be the target of whatever the plot is."

"_IF_ something is even being plotted," Harry reminded him, finger wagging in chastisement. "There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for what's going on."

Draco glared at Harry and held it for several minutes.

Finally, Harry broke. "Alright, I'll tell him Monday."

"Thank you, Potter."

"Be safe, Draco," Harry said, and with that, the two parted, Draco heading for Slytherin to commiserate with his team and house-mates; Harry for Gryffindor to celebrate with his.

* * *

He arrived just in time to have to chase after Hermione, who was leaving the Common Room in tears just as he was entering. One glance told him all he thought he needed to know as to why: Ron and Lavender Brown were Snogging in the middle of the room. Heavily snogging. Capitalised snogging. His-hands-were-up-her-shirt-and-her-hands-were-in-his-pants snogging. Deciding to go try to comfort Hermione, he left the common room and used his wand to point him in her direction.

He found Hermione in a stairwell on the Astronomy tower, a group of little yellow canaries swirling around her head courtesy of the _Avis_ charm they had learned that week. As he approached from behind, she shouted "_Oppugno!_" and the birds formed up into an attack formation and flew at Harry, who with a wave of his wand turned them into a bouquet of yellow roses.

Walking down the stairs and crouching down in front of her, he offered her the flowers.

"What's wrong?" he asked as she took the flowers and transfigured them into a handkerchief to dry her eyes and blow her nose loudly with.

"It's just so frustrating," she said, the sound muffled by the fact that her head was in her hands, which were resting on her knees. "Ron's got Lavender, you're shagging your way through the castle, and I've got nobody!"

"I am not 'shagging my way though the castle'!" Harry defended himself.

"You are so! Twice a week you vanish off somewhere and come to breakfast the next morning with some girl from another house, and both of you look well and thoroughly shagged," Hermione accused, raising her head to stare at him

"That's still only eight girls," Harry said. "Not even a third of the number available. Sirius would be ashamed of me."

"That's still better than me!" Hermione said. "I haven't even been properly kissed yet!"

Harry interrupted what was sure to be a long-winded whinge by solving that particular problem for her, leaning in and kissing her, using all of his limited experience (or not so limited, considering what he had gotten up to with the Patil twins two weeks previously) with girls to do so.

When they separated, Hermione looked at Harry curiously.

"What was that?" she asked.

"That, my dear Hermione, was a kiss," Harry said. "It's the word we use for when two people connect their bodies via the lips."

"No, you prat, I meant why did you kiss me?"

"Then you should have said that," Harry cheeked. Hermione glared and looked ready to hex him.

"Because you deserved it," he said, sitting down in front of her. "Sixteen years old and never been kissed, especially when your friends are ahead of you in that respect, you needed it. Plus, I don't like it when you cry."

"How noble of you," she said, pulling him up off the floor and sitting him next to her on the stairs.

"Well, I am a Gryffindor," Harry said, as if it explained everything.

"You do realise that by kissing me you're agreeing to date me, right?" Hermione asked. "Because I am _not_ a scarlet woman, Harry Potter; I'm not going to go around just letting random boys kiss me, regardless of how famous they are!"

"I will happily agree to date you," Harry said. "And not just because Mum likes you and because I need someone to take to Holiday Balls."

"Why, then?"Hermione asked. "You've got dozens of girls in the school and hundreds outside of it who would gladly go with you and even do things with you after those balls that I couldn't do."

"Because you're my best friend," Harry said. "Because you're pretty, and because you're not a Pureblood."

"Why wouldn't you date me if I was a pureblood?" Hermione asked, confused and looking at him warily, looking for negative points in Harry.

"Because if you were a pureblood, you'd be too close of a cousin for my liking. I want to follow my dad's example and marry a first generation witch, and make sure my family magic stays strong," Harry said.

"Family magic?" Hermione asked, in the confused way she did on the rare occasion she didn't know something..

"Family magic," Harry said. "All of the Old Families have or had certain spells which only they knew and could use. However, as the Families have waned, so has their Magic, some of it lost forever. My family has always been particularly gifted at Transfiguration, and the first Animagi were Potters. Only those with Potter blood somewhere in their family line have the gift."

"But – " Hermione began, but Harry interrupted.

"Yes, I know, that means I'm somehow related to Rita Skeeter and Wormtail, and believe me, you can't possibly be as disgusted by the prospect as I was. Fortunately, their forms means the relation is very weak."

"How did you find out about all this stuff?" Hermione asked.

"I read a book this summer about the Old Families, all of 'em, even the extinct ones," Harry said. "Neville has my copy if you want to read it yourself."

The look on Hermione's face suggested she did indeed want to read it herself, and Harry promised her he'd get it for her.

"So...you're my new boyfriend," Hermione said, leaning onto his shoulder and wrapping his arms around her.

"Yup," Harry agreed. "And you're my girlfriend."

"Lavender's gonna be so pissed at me," Hermione said with a giggle, causing Harry to almost do a double take. Since when did Hermione Granger giggle?

"Probably," he agreed. "You wanna head back to the Tower? I can check and see if Ron's done eating Lavender's face."

"Mmm, nope," Hermione said. "I'd think I'd rather stay right here." And they did until she fell asleep.

* * *

_**A/N (2): Sorry again about the brevity and non-interestingness about this update. It's basically just a load of summary, skipping through most of the fall term. More plot and such at the end of the month, including fun Dumbledore lessons and some dating. And some progress in the Theo Nott side-plot.**_

**_See you in 10!_**

**_-Phoenix II  
_**


	27. Chapter 27

To say there was an huge uproar at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when the students learned Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were dating would be a bit of an overstatement.

There was a bit of an uproar, but it was far from huge and mostly congratulatory. Hermione did, however, return blushing from a "meeting" with the pureblooded girls Harry had been shagging previously, and wouldn't answer any of his questions on what they'd talked about.

The _Prophet_ had mercifully ignored them, not wanting to do anything that would give Harry cause to seek even more money from them, but that hadn't stopped _Witch Weekly_, whose article was split between congratulating Harry for finding a girl and disappointment that he was now off the market.

It was from Hermione that he'd come up with what he believed to be a rather brilliant plan. They'd been sitting out by the Black Lake eating lunch the Saturday after they started dating when Hermione had been bitten by a midge, which she had complained about and in doing so, triggered Harry's imagination by comparing them to vampires and leeches.

The next Monday, during his session with Professor Dumbledore, he explained the idea he'd had: using Battle Transfiguration to sic a horde of midges on Death Eaters; the midges would suck them dry of blood before being dispelled, leaving one dead Death Eater and no obvious cause of death save for all the raised bumps on his flesh.

"That is a...very innovative idea," Dumbledore said, looking quite put off by the idea.

"Harry, I believe it is time for you and I to have a conversation," the old man said. "It is something I have dreading doing since you told me you had become a Scarlet Knight."

"What is it, sir?" Harry asked.

"You are becoming violent," Dumbledore said. "You give no thought to sparing your opponents, and only of new ways to kill them. It greatly troubles me, Harry."

Harry sat still in his chair, lips pursed, eyes locked with the Headmaster's. While Dumbledore's gaze appeared old and saddened, Harry's eyes burned with a cold fire.

"Why," he eventually asked, "should I give quarter and consideration to murderers and terrorists, who give none themselves?"

Dumbledore frowned. "That does not mean you should sink to their level, Harry," he said.

"I disagree, Headmaster," Harry said. "The general philosophy is that we should not simply kill them all for the simple crime of being misguided in their views. Your addition is that we should give them a second chance. The Prime Minister believes we should keep them caged. I see your theories and philosophies and raise you my realities: caging them does not so permanently ensure they remain separate from the general population as execution does, and not all people deserve a second chance."

"What gives you the right to decide they are beyond redemption?" Dumbledore asked.

"I don't presume that right," Harry replied. "I will say, though, that I believe they are, as do most others who spend more time actually fighting against them than you have. I will also say that murder done to those who have done it themselves is still murder, and I shall one day have to atone for it. I am not seeking to make myself appear to be an Angel of Righteousness descending from Heaven to cleave open the skulls of the sinners, Headmaster, but I am doing what needs to be done for my self and my country."

"Destroying most of the remaining Old Families in Britain, costing us their family magics forever, needs to be done?" Dumbledore asked.

"The loss will indeed be grievous," Harry said. "But the other side has been just as careless, despite their rhetoric of wanting the Old Families to have all the power, as though we don't already. And you yourself have done the matter no favor, sir. Where are your descendants? We shall lose your family's magic as well, regardless of any action taken by either side in this war. Voldemort and his lackeys have destroyed the MacKinnons utterly, as well as the Prewitts, the Whites and the Crouches. In retaliation, we have destroyed the LeStranges and the Malfoys, while the Black family's continued existence hangs by a thread, as does that of the Notts and the Rosiers.

"At one time," Harry continued, "the Old Families had between three and five children in Hogwarts in any given house at any given time. Now the Old Families, with the exception of the Weasleys, at best produce two children for every generation, and are mostly – again, with the primary exception of the Weasleys – confined to Slytherin House."

"Be that as it may, Harry," Dumbledore began, before Harry interrupted again.

"No sir," he said. "This is going to change. I will see the Old Families destroyed in name if I must, and after the dust settles, I will see what can be done to ensure the family magic is not completely lost to us. After all, if Rita Skeeter and Peter Pettigrew can be Animagi without the Potter name, there will be those with enough of a relation to be able to perform the family magic from most of the other Families. For myself, I will work with whichever witch I end up marrying to expand my own House as much as I can, to strengthen the Potter Family magic by expansion, not concentration. I hope Draco will do the same with the Blacks."

"And yet you're going to base your entire scheme around death," Dumbledore said, steering the conversation back to the direction in which he wished to take it. "I'm having trouble seeing how your position makes you much different from Tom."

Harry bristled, nostrils flaring as he had to force himself from hexing the Headmaster until he recanted that statement.

"I do not agree with, nor appreciate, that comparison," he said in a low tone. "I want nothing more than a society free from terror and discrimination. Tom wants the complete opposite. The only similarity is the methods we are forced to use to achieve our ends. It's no different from a chess match."

"How so?"

"The objective in a chess match is to win, correct?" Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded. "To win, you must make sacrifices, and 'kill' your opponent's pieces. Tom and I are the two sides on the chess board. For the sake of the analogy, he's the black pieces, I'm the white. To win, I'm going to remove his pieces from the board. I can't do that without killing them."

"And that is what makes you think you are 'forced' to kill to achieve your ends?" Dumbledore asked.

"I just said that, did I not?" Harry asked. "Your argument would make a great deal more sense if I had delusions of grandeur that I should, or could, rule the Wizarding World, or if I got any sort of pleasure out of killing, as Tom does. For me, as I hope should be becoming clear to you when you try to compare me and the Traitor, the complete opposite is true. I have no desire to rule the Wizarding World, and all I felt when I killed Lucius was satisfaction and relief."

"Murder is still wrong, Harry."

"I said that earlier as well," Harry said. "If it were possible for me to solve the Death Eater problem and achieve all my goals without further bloodshed, I would happily not shed another drop in anger. But you and I both know that is impossible, both because the Death Eaters are just as fanatical as their master and refuse to surrender, as well as because the Knights do not let their enemies live."

"I do know," Dumbledore said. "It is why I refused to join your Grandfather's Company to fight against Grindelwald. I abhor violence naturally, and even in the end I could not bring myself to kill a man I had once considered a very close friend."

"So then what did you do with him?"

"He is in prison," Dumbledore said. "A prison of his own design and construction. Nurmengard."

"And my grandfather went along with that?"

"He did not," Dumbledore said. "He hated me for it until his dying day, and said several rather nasty things about me at the time. But I was by far a more powerful wizard, and after I was able to back more of the Wizengamot to support my position than he, he declined to duel me over it."

"Perhaps he should have," Harry said. "Though if Tom ever finds out where you stashed Grindelwald, I don't doubt he'll do the job for Grandfather. Perhaps I should tell him Grindelwald is still alive the next time I need to distract him."

"Such as when we go after the Ring Horcrux?" Dumbledore suggested, seemingly grateful for the ability to change the subject despite his dissatisfaction with Harry's position regarding killing the Death Eaters.

"Perhaps such as then," Harry said. "Have you gotten more information on the Death Eater activity around Little Hangleton and the wards around the Gaunt shack?"

"Yes, actually," Dumbledore replied, pulling a great stack of parchments from a drawer in his desk. "As you know, the Ministry has sensors which can be used to trace magic throughout Great Britain. One of the functions of the sensors is to determine the age of the witch or wizard casting magic in a particular area. For instance, when you performed the Patronus Charm last summer, the sensors detected the magic that was used first, and then after not finding any of-age witches or wizards in the area, the Ministry determined that you had cast the charm and took the action it did."

"OK," Harry said. "How does that apply to this situation."

"I simply had to request the tracking data for the area around Little Hangleton. I requested several years' worth of records, though, so there is a fairly large amount of parchment. I was able to discern that your previous theory appeared to be correct, and that most Death Eaters spend a good deal of time there at nights, typically between 1 and 5 AM, judging by the amount of incoming and outgoing Apparitions. On nights we know the Death Eaters to have conducted raids, the number of outgoing apparitions is greater in size and in the number of people who apparate as a group."

"Is there a list?" Harry asked.

"One I have compiled on my own, yes," Dumbledore said, picking up a piece of parchment and handing it to Harry. "All the names on it are, to the best of my knowledge, not currently sitting in the new prison, and all have been to the area in the presence of Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix LeStrange, and the rest of those you have already captured."

Harry accepted it and quickly scanned it, deflating.

"Fuck," he said.

"Five points from Gryffindor for language," Dumbledore said. "But I agree with your sentiments. It will not be fun for either you or Amos to have to explain the presence of so many Death Eaters within the Ministry."

"I think I'll settle for now for thanking Merlin the one in the Detection Office was too dumb to think to erase his signature from detection or to break the sensors monitoring Little Hangleton," Harry said. "So, you agree that a dawn strike would be about the best time to hit the Gaunt place?"

"I do," Dumbledore said. "And fortunately, the magic done on the place was rather minimal. Apparently Tom did not feel like drawing attention to it. There was an anti-Apparition ward erected, as well as anti-Portkey wards and a proximity ward that will be easy to bypass. On the inside, there are a series of traps that I shall be able to easily dispel, and a Withering Curse on an object in the middle of the shack, most likely the Ring."

"Nasty," Harry said. "Probably has a compulsion charm on top of it to make you want to put it on and trigger it."

"That would be my guess as well," Dumbledore said.

"So, when do we go?" Harry asked.

"If you could do so on Saturday, it would probably be better for us to take care of this sooner than later."

"Sounds fantastic," Harry said. "Send me a note Friday with the place to meet you Saturday morning. In the meantime, I'm going to head into the Ministry and talk with Alastor about this list."

"I shall do so, Harry, and thank you for informing me of your intention to depart. Would you like to use my fireplace?"

"If it's not an inconvenience," Harry said. Dumbledore offered him the Floo powder and Harry was off to the Ministry.

He arrived in a quite chaotic scene.

"What the hell happened?" he asked Mad-Eye.

"Riddle happened," the old Auror said. "He attacked Azkaban this afternoon, killed half the Aurors on duty, had half the rest Kissed by the dementors, which he took with him, and walked off with half the criminals in the joint."

"And the other half?" Harry asked.

"Dead," Moody said. "Probably at the hands of the ones who accepted the offer to join the Death Eaters."

"Wonderful, we have a whole bunch of new cannon fodder to fight," Harry said. "Well, you're going to like my news even less, I'm afraid."

"What is it, Potter?" Moody asked.

"A list of suspected Death Eaters working within the Ministry," Harry said. "About sixty, all told, none higher than Assistant Undersecretary."

Moody swore.

"C'mon, Potter. We need to go see Amos and you two will probably have to be off to the Muggles."

"Has word gotten out of the Ministry yet?" Harry asked.

"Well, St. Mungos knows, so yes," Moody said. "It'll be in the _Evening Prophet_, no doubt."

"Damnit," Harry said. "Oh well, nothing for it. Let's go see what if we can propose a solution that Amos can pitch for the morning editions."

He and Moody made their way to the Minister's Office, where they were quickly waved in by Percy.

"I hope you're here with good news, Potter," Amos said, looking like he was in serious need of a stiff drink.

"Some good news," Harry said. "But some bad first: you have 60 employees at the Ministry who are probably Death Eaters."

"Oh, that's just made my day," Amos said. "Anyone important?"

"Not particularly," Harry said. "But if Riddle orders it, they'd likely be up to staging a coup, now that they've got some reinforcements."

"Yes, the breakout," Diggory said. "What's the good news?"

"We can track their movements," Harry said. "Your magical sensors can identify the presence of witches and wizards of any age in any particular location throughout the country. I'll have Auror teams use the tracking data to round up as many of the new escapees as possible, by your leave, Minister."

"Of course, Potter," Diggory said. "Is that how you got your new list of suspects?"

"It is," Harry said. "Well, Professor Dumbledore got it for me, actually, and gave it to me this afternoon."

"Brilliant man, Dumbledore," Diggory said. "I never would have thought that the sensors worked like that, but of course they do, if children in magical households never receive warnings for underage magic. The painting has already warned the Prime Minister that I'll be coming, I expect Moody told you you'll be accompanying me?"

"Yes, Minister," Harry said. "Give me a moment to change clothes," he said.

"What do you mean?" Diggory asked. Harry popped into one of his three-piece suits, selecting a light blue tie for the meeting with the Tory PM.

"That," he said simply.

"Brilliant Switching Spell, Potter," Moody said, forcing Harry to remember the capabilities of the man's mad eye. Diggory looked like he was about to say something, but closed his mouth and stood from his desk. Mad-Eye handed Harry three Muggle manila folders with all the information the Ministry had regarding the breakout.

"Have fun, Potter. I'll get started on tracking down our fugitives," he whispered to the teen, causing Harry to scowl as he and Amos approached the fireplace. Diggory went first, and Harry followed him to "Ten Downing Street!"

"Good evening, Minister Diggory, Lord Potter," the PM said once Harry had stumbled from the fireplace.

"Good evening, Prime Minister," Harry said, followed by Amos.

"What is the problem now?" he asked.

"Can't we just pop by to say hello and have tea?" Harry asked. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"I've yet to meet with one of you when something's not wrong, Minister Diggory is frowning, and you're clutching a small book's worth of information," the Prime Minister replied dryly.

"...OK fine, something's wrong," Harry said. The Prime Minister said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow and gesturing at two chairs in his office.

"What is it?"

"Our favourite magical terrorist has attacked one of our prisons, killed most of the guards and half of the prisoners, and made off with the rest," Diggory said.

"The Dastardly Mr. Riddle?" the PM asked. Harry nodded.

"Thankfully, we have methods of finding out where those broken out are, and expect to recapture them shortly," Harry said.

"Fantastic. What of the guards?" the PM asked. Diggory winced.

"They will be...somewhat more difficult to deal with," he said cautiously.

"How so?"

"They're magical creatures that make you feel miserable and can eat your soul," Harry said. "Oh, and you can't see them."

"You're just full of good news, aren't you?"

"Oh yes," Harry answered. "Nothing but."

"So how are you going to deal with the guards?"

"I have a message out with our researchers in the Department of Mysteries," Diggory said. "As well as members of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures looking to see if there are ways to kill the creatures to which Lord Potter referred."

"And if there aren't?"

"We'll have to invent one," Harry said, a grim expression on his face. "In the meantime, if anyone is attacked by the creatures, we'll work with your office as we have always done to ensure the secret is kept."

"You think you can invent one, just like that?"

"Well, no, not just like that, but we could make one, obviously. It's just not on to have an indestructible force of evil roaming the countryside without the ability to destroy it," Harry said.

"Too right," the PM said. "Could I see those records you're holding, milord?" Harry looked to Amos, who nodded. Harry handed over the files and waited while the PM read over them.

"You say you can have all these people rounded up shortly?"

"By the weekend, sir," Harry said. "I have my people on it even as we speak, and they're very good at what they do."

"Very good. Do you think this warrants discussion with the Privy Council?"

"No, sir," Harry said. "There's nothing particularly special about this case, it simply proves the point I've been making for the past two months: that Azkaban is completely useless as a prison. Perhaps that can be corrected with time and investment, but for the moment, our new prison will be our primary holding facility."

"Very well. Is there anything else?"

"Not tonight, sir," Harry said, thinking about the list of Death Eaters within the Ministry. There was no need for the Prime Minister to know about that unless absolutely necessary.

"Have a good night then, Minister, Lord Potter."

"You as well, Prime Minister," both men said before returning to the Ministry via Floo.

"I should return to Hogwarts," Harry said. "Alastor will inform you on the progress of the recapture effort."

"I understand," Amos said. "Enjoy your evening, Harry."

"You as well, Minister," Harry said, stepping in the fireplace once again and leaving the Ministry.

* * *

_A/N: OK, so I promised you a date last chapter, and obviously didn't deliver on that. Sorry, but I didn't particularly feel up to writing more romance this go-round. That said, I will make an effort to include a bit of fluff next chapter, after Dumbledore and Harry destroy at least one Horcrux._

_About the bloodlines and morality discussion, I wanted to make Dumbledore a little closer to canon Dumbledore than the rubber stamp/mentor I'd been using him as. He may or may not have similar discussions with Harry in the future._

_And re: the midge idea: I've been being eaten alive by insects lately, and that's where that came from._

_See you on the 10th!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	28. Chapter 28

Harry stifled a yawn as he made his way to the front gates, where the Headmaster had informed him they would depart from. He had awakened at 3:30, quickly showered and dressed in his armour before leaving his dormitory, making his way quickly down.

Dumbledore was waiting for him at the gates, dressed in simple black robes, which surprised Harry, but it did make some sense as they were trying to be inconspicuous, and at night black was slightly less conspicuous than lavender with twinkling stars.

"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said with his normal cheerful smile.

"G'morning," Harry said, wishing he had some Pepper-Up Potion.

"I shall be Side-Along Apparating you this morning," Dumbledore said. "And we shall land approximately a quarter-mile from our destination, so as to hopefully not trip any alarm wards."

"Perfectly reasonable," Harry said, taking the Headmaster's offered hand and steadied himself for the odd sensation that accompanied Apparition. He was not disappointed, and felt the highly uncomfortable squeezing sensation that lasted for the briefest of moments before he and Dumbledore were deposited in the midst of a forest.

"I hate Apparition," Harry muttered. Dumbledore appeased him with a slight chuckle before drawing his wand and murmuring a few quiet spells.

"This way," he said, pointing his finger to the left. "It is about 500 meters to the Gaunt home, 400 until the proximity wards would be tripped. We shall have to disable those before we can proceed."

Harry nodded his assent.

"A little light would not be amiss either," Dumbledore noted. Harry cast _lumos_ with his wand and set off in the direction Dumbledore had indicated, the Headmaster right alongside him. They proceeded cautiously until Dumbledore halted them in front of the wardline. The old wizard concentrated for a moment before tapping first Harry and then himself on the top of the head.

Harry shivered as he felt the magic wash over him. "What was that?"

"That was us being allowed through the wards," Dumbledore answered. "Pathetically simple, I had truly expected more from Tom. But perhaps this location's protections were devised while he was still a student, and thus not as complicated as others may be. Let us continue, Harry. The next trap is not until the front door."

Perhaps Dumbledore was right, if he was only speaking of magical traps. But the pair were accosted as soon as they stepped over the wardline by a great, hissing snake Harry recognised from his visions as Nagini.

"_You are not my masssster,_" the snake hissed in Parseltongue. Harry tensed up.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"That' s Tom's snake," Harry said. "She recognises that we are not him."

"Try and persuade her to leave," Dumbledore suggested.

"_We have been sent here by your massssster,_" Harry hissed.

"_Masssster would not send hisss nemesssisss here,_" the snake replied. "_You ssssmell like a liar._"

"No dice," Harry replied to Dumbledore in English. "We'll have to do this the hard way, can't have her going off and blabbing to Tom."

Dumbledore nodded. Harry drew his sword, stepped forward and neatly sliced off the snake's head, stepping back in shock as the same black mist that had issued from the destroyed locket left Nagini's body.

"Did you know the snake was a Horcrux, Professor?" Harry asked, looking back to Dumbledore, who looked quite shocked to hear the news.

"I did not," the Headmaster said. "Congratulations, Harry, that makes three of those vile things you have destroyed now."

"Three to go," Harry reminded the Headmaster as they proceeded to the front door of the Gaunt shack. Once again, Dumbledore spent some time waving his wand over the door.

"Most troubling," he said. "It seems that anyone who tries to open this door triggers a withering curse that is locked by a spell that I cannot discern, nor unravel."

"Is it shielded?" Harry asked.

"No, but – " Dumbledore began, interrupted when Harry promptly blasted the door off its hinges.

"Problem solved," Harry said, only for the satisfied look on his face to quickly morph into one of horror when the ground began to tremble.

"Shields!" he advised, transfiguring some bracken on the ground into a series of brick walls that he crouched down behind. Dumbledore quickly followed his lead, just as all the magical traps Tom had layered in throughout the house were all tripped by the door Harry had blown through it, causing a great explosion which flung debris outward in all directions.

Both Harry and Dumbledore had to Banish several pieces of debris away from themselves before everything calmed down. Harry looked over to the Headmaster, who was looking at him with a glare Harry normally only saw on Professor Snape.

"Oops," he said.

"A very unwise move, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Undoubtedly, we have been noticed. We must be quick."

"_Accio_ ring!" Harry calmly stated, rising above his stone wall and pointing his wand at the debris. A small shiny speck flew out from the debris, and Harry intercepted it with his sword. They connected with a flash and spark of metal on metal, followed by a shriek and more black mist spitting from the destroyed ring. Careful not to touch the pieces, Harry gathered them into a transfigured pouch.

"Done," he said. "Let's get out of here." Dumbledore was only too eager to grab Harry's arm and return them to Hogwarts. Harry could swear he heard a series of Apparition cracks as he and Dumbledore were swept away.

He was quite surprised to find that they returned to the Headmaster's office.

"How'd we get here?" he asked.

"As Headmaster, I am allowed certain privileges regarding the wards that ordinary students and teachers are not," Dumbledore replied. "Two Horcruxes destroyed in a little over 90 minutes, very well done."

Harry was about to agree when he felt Voldemort's rage pounding up against his head.

'_POTTER!'_ the Dark Lord screamed. '_HOW DARE YOU!_'

'_How dare I what?_' Harry asked timidly.

'_YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!'_ Riddle roared. '_I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO DESTROY MY HORCRUXES!_'

'_Little late on that front, I've already done four of them,_' Harry said. '_I'll get around to the other two, and you, don't you worry your little snake-faced head._'

Voldemort responded by attempting to send a Cruciatus Curse through his link with Harry, to no effect.

'_Bye Tom, have fun torturing your remaining minions for this,_' Harry thought. '_Oh by the way, did you know Dumbledore left Grindelwald alive. You should really see about eliminating the competition._' His piece said, he re-raised his Occlumency shields with a tap to his family ring.

"Tom?" Dumbledore asked.

"He's not very happy with us right now," Harry said. "Understandably."

"Did you tell him about Gellert?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah. I also did some reading up about Nurmengard during the week. What d'you think the odds are that he gets at least one serious injury in his attempt to kill Grindelwald?"

"Low enough that I would not risk the wager," Dumbledore said. "Besides the large contingent of German Aurors, who are some of the best in the world, let alone Europe, there are manticores, lethifold, and at least one Sphinx guarding the high security levels in which Gellert is housed."

Harry grinned. "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I need a shower and a nap before I'm dragged into Hogsmeade by my girlfriend."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. Harry Switched back into his pajamas, before taking a pinch of Floo powder and fire-travelling to Gryffindor Tower. He quickly headed back up to bed, finding sleep easy despite the 90 minutes of action and adventure previous.

* * *

He was awoken by lewd whispering in his ear.

"Wha?" he said, looking up to see a blushing Hermione. "You're going to do what to me where?"

"Shut up," she said. "You weren't waking up with normal stimulation, so I thought I'd try something … different. It worked, didn't it?"

Harry looked down at his crotch. "Yes, it did work quite well," he replied with a cheeky grin. Hermione turned redder. "What time's it?"

"7:30," Hermione replied. "Or thereabouts."

"Seven thirty?" Harry replied with a groan, flopping back down on his bed. "Two more hours."

"Harry Potter, you get out of that bed right this instant!"

"But 'mione I'm tired," Harry whinged, to no avail as Hermione's Stinging Hex caught him in the shoulder.

"I'll be in the Common Room. If you're not showered, dressed, and down there by eight, you and I are going to have a talk." With that, she left the room. Harry sighed, and got out of bed, heading for the showers.

He entered the Common Room just as the clock chimed eight, quick to catch Hermione's eye.

"OK, I'm here, now what?"

"Now breakfast, and Hogsmeade, while you explain why you wanted two more hours of sleep even after you went to bed at nine last night," Hermione said with a glare that told Harry he would not be weaseling out of a full explanation.

Very few people were still at breakfast when they arrived, since most of them had headed into Hogsmeade at seven, eager to spend the day shopping and, most importantly, not in the castle. Harry quickly ate his own breakfast while trying to think about how exactly to phrase his explanation and waiting for Hermione to finish her own breakfast.

Soon enough, they were heading down to Hogsmeade.

"So, what was it?" Hermione asked, shortly after they left the castle.

Harry looked around to see if anyone was following them before he answered.

"I went on a raid last night," he said. "Professor Dumbledore and I are tracking down things important to Tom and destroying them."

"What kind of things?" Hermione asked.

"Horcruxes," Harry said. Hermione looked at him.

"They're the result of a Dark ritual that splits off a fragment of your soul, which you can put into an object and hide away somewhere to ensure your soul doesn't leave this plane of existence should your body be killed."

"And you said Tom Riddle has more than one?" she asked, aghast.

"The Headmaster believes he had six," Harry said. "So far, we've done in four, but we have no idea where the other two might be hidden," he added.

"That's totally barbaric," she said. "What sort of depraved person would do such a thing to their soul even once, much less _six bloody times_?"

"Tom Riddle is the dictionary definition of depraved," Harry said as they entered the little village. "Please tell me we're not going to the tea shop."

Hermione looked at him with an evil glint in her eye, which she held for all of three seconds before bursting into giggles.

"No, I'm not that mean, Harry. I thought we'd just do a little light shopping, have some lunch, and then head back," she said. "Unless you have other plans?"

"No, milady, I'll let you dictate our schedule today," Harry said, smiling at Hermione.

* * *

Of course, nothing even as simple as a date with his girlfriend could go as planned for Harry.

They were just finishing up their lunch in The Three Broomsticks when they heard multiple Apparition cracks, followed by screaming. Harry looked out the window to see witches and wizards in black cloaks and white masks walking down the High Street.

"Fuck," he said. "Somebody call the Aurors!" he shouted, standing up and Switching into his armour. "Hermione, please stay here. I'll be right back, I promise."

"If you die, Harry Potter, I am going to be very angry at you!" his girlfriend said, giving him a quick kiss "for luck" before ducking under a table as a window exploded inwards.

Harry cast a _sonorous_ charm on himself and stepped outside.

"DEATH EATERS!" he announced, and all activity stopped. "IN THE NAME OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC OF THE UNITED KINGDOM, I COMMAND YOU TO CEASE YOUR ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES AND SURRENDER. IF YOU CONTINUE TO RESIST, YOU WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE. WHAT SAY YOU?"

"Go to Hell, Potter!" was his answer, followed by a bone-breaker curse which his shields absorbed. Harry snapped into action, retaliating with Reductors, Stunners, Bludgeoners and Cutters while drawing his sword and closing in on the Death Eaters, dodging Killing Curses and grinning as some of them struck other Death Eaters.

He plunged his sword into a Death Eater's chest just as he heard more Apparition cracks, looking back to see two Auror companies arrive and begin attacking. Transfiguring some of the fall foliage into great black dogs, he sent them after Voldemort's minions as distractions.

"LETHAL FORCE IS AUTHORISED," he shouted to the Aurors, who nodded in acknowledgment and immediately upped the level of spells they were using, watching as multiple Death Eaters went down to a variety of curses.

Three of them, however, remained behind the others and focused their attentions on Harry.

"The Dark Lord is most displeased with you, Potter," one of them said. "We will be greatly rewarded for bringing you to him."

"In your dreams," Harry said with a laugh, shields blocking multiple Bludgeoning Hexes while he fired back with the fire whip, literally disarming one Death Eater while setting his robes on fire. His comrades stunned him to shut him up and try to envelop Harry in a pincer. Harry was very glad he had two shields.

One of the two Death Eaters – a squat woman with a bit of blonde hair escaping her hood – seemed to be by far the most prone to shooting torture curses and other high-level Dark Arts spells at him, so he conjured a mess of darts and sent them at her, following them with a Piercing Hex that caught her in the chest and dropped her like a lead weight. This, of course, pissed off the other and caused him to send three _Avada Kedavra_s in succession at Harry, who blocked them all with conjured walls, and transfigured the debris into heavy chains which pinned the man to the ground and allowed Harry to cleanly stab the man through the heart and kill him.

Looking around, he saw that aside from him, the battle had been quickly finished as well by the Aurors. A dozen black-robed corpses littered the ground, as did four in red robes. Four shops in Hogsmeade showed signs of having been on fire, but had been extinguished by Aurors and some of the Hogwarts students with knowledge of the Aguamenti charm.

Harry was approached by Mad-Eye, who was dressed in his red Auror robes.

"Nice job, Potter," he said, surveying the four corpses near Harry. "Let's see who we've done in, eh?"

Harry and Mad-Eye removed the masks of the Death Eaters, and was not surprised with Moody recognised all four.

"The Carrow siblings, and two of the former guards of Azkaban. Good riddance to the lot," Moody said.

"Our losses?" Harry asked, having noted the four dead Aurors.

"Seconds and Thirds," Moody said. "Rookies bad at conjuration. All of 'em took an AK."

"Damn," Harry said. "IDs on the other KIAs?"

"All previously low-level criminals who got broken out of Azkaban," Moody said. "Funnily enough the eight we'd not been able to recapture."

"Funnily enough," Harry agreed, just before he was attacked by a bushy-haired missile.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, "Oh Harry, it was horrible! I saw you fighting all of them at first, and then I saw them kill some of the Aurors, and then one of them lit the pub on fire and I helped organise the fire brigade, and then it was all over, and I started looking for you, and thank Merlin you're alright!"

"I'm fine," Harry said. "Not a scratch."

"You're all bloody," Hermione said. "Why are you covered in blood?"

"It happens when people bleed on you," Harry said, switching into his previous outfit.

"Miss Granger, we're going to need a statement from you," Mad-Eye said. "Everybody who was here, really, but we'll start with you, so you and Harry can get back to the castle and debrief Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded, quickly composing herself as Moody pulled out a piece of parchment and a dicta-quill. He made Hermione repeat her experience, asked her a few questions, then had her sign her name and let Harry take her up to the castle.

She clung to him the entire walk.

* * *

_A/N: I apologise profusely for the brevity of this chapter, but I really, really didn't feel much like writing it until 8:00 last night, and lost that interest as soon as I finished that last sentence. As today is the tenth, it was going up regardless of where I finished, so that's my sorry-ass excuse. Should I recover some semblance of a muse before the 20th, I think I shall skip the rest of the fall and head to Winter Break, in which there shall be training, new knowledge, and Balls._

_Until then,_

_Phoenix II  
_


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: I think it's appropriate that I start this chapter with an apology to all of you readers: there is no good excuse for me taking 50 days to put this out. I'll try to explain myself by telling you that this chapter was extraordinarily difficult to write, as it is wholly and unashamedly a transitional chapter. My personal goal for this story is to have every chapter coming in at around 3,000 words, and as you can tell, this chapter is well short of that. It sat at about 500 words for 40 days, and I was only just able to finish it over my fall break (along with the next chapter). And when I say "finish it", I really mean "accept the fact that there's nothing I can put in here that would reasonably get it near 3,000 and not blatantly be filler so fuck it". More of my drivel below, for now, have a read and enjoy._

* * *

"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore instructed as the boy in question and his still-shocked girlfriend made their way to his office.

"Headmaster," Harry said. "I assume you have at least an inkling of what has occurred?"

"A very small one," Dumbledore said. "Alastor sent me a message informing me that Death Eaters had attacked Hogsmeade, damage was minimal, and that you would be along to give me more information."

"Well, that does cover the basics," Harry said. "Hermione and I were having lunch in the Three Broomsticks when we heard people Apparate in, and people outside start screaming, so I looked outside and saw people in black cloaks and white masks – Death Eaters. I instructed that the Aurors be called, Switched into my armour and went out to try and head off the problem myself."

"Without knowing how many there were?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Harry admitted. "But there was no way for me to get any sort of accurate count from inside the pub. I would have had to go outside regardless."

"Very well, carry on."

"I ordered them to cease their activities and surrender, and warned them that refusal would be met with lethal force. They refused anyway, and we started fighting. I was able to kill one before the Aurors arrived, at which time I informed them that I had authorised the use of lethal force," Harry said. "Most of the remaining Death Eaters turned their attentions to the Aurors, and I understand from Auror Moody that the resulting combat caused the deaths of eight Death Eaters and four Auror Seconds and Thirds. For my part, I was encircled by three Death Eaters, one of which I killed by removing his arm and setting him on fire. The second, which Auror Moody identified as Alecto Carrow, I killed with a Piercing Hex to the chest, and the third, Amycus Carrow, I stabbed through the heart with my sword."

"How many attackers escaped?" Dumbledore asked. Harry noted that he had a rather queasy look on his face from Harry's descriptions of how he had personally killed four Death Eaters.

"I am not aware of any," Harry said. Dumbledore looked pensive for a moment before speaking again.

"And you, Miss Granger? What was your involvement in the day's activities?"

"I was in the pub, sir," Hermione said in a quiet voice. "When the Death Eaters set it on fire, I helped organise the patrons to extinguish the blaze. Beyond that, all I did was worry about Harry and keep my head down, so as to not present them an easy target."

"Five points to Gryffindor for good thinking," Dumbledore said. "Miss Granger, I think you should see Madam Pomfrey."

"Sir?" both Harry and Hermione asked.

"You appear to be in shock, Miss Granger. Nothing a simple Calming Draught won't fix, but you do need to get it before it can fix it."

"I'll escort her, sir," Harry said. Just as he rose from the chair, the Headmaster's Floo flared to life and spat out someone who was obviously a reporter for the _Daily Prophet_.

"Ah, I believe you are needed elsewhere," Dumbledore said. "I shall escort Miss Granger, Harry."

Harry made no comment, lest the reporter get any funny ideas about what was on-the-record information, and instead prepared himself for a bunch of bothersome questioning.

* * *

Harry found Hermione after his interviews were over. Hermione, as she did, was revising for Runes.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon," he said. "That probably wasn't how you wanted to spend the afternoon, and it's definitely not what I would have rather done."

"It's fine, Harry," Hermione said. "You couldn't have expected a Death Eater attack. But I expect you to make it up to me?"

"Oh?" Harry asked, a devilish grin on his face. "How?"

"Nothing too demanding," Hermione said. "Just a lavish shopping spree, since I won't be wearing the same dress to all the Balls."

"Balls?" Harry asked. "Did I miss something?"

"Yes, you dunderhead," Hermione said. "The Yule Balls are coming up, and you'll obviously be expected to attend and bring a date, which will be me, considering I'm you're girlfriend."

"Right," Harry said. "But it's still early November."

"All the more reason to get the dresses now," Hermione said. "How many Balls will we be attending, besides Neville's?"

"Erm," Harry replied. "I dunno. I'll have to have an owl off to Narcissa, see if any invitations have come there, because I haven't gotten any here. There's one for Ministry employees we'll probably end up at."

"You do that, Harry," Hermione said. "The longer we wait, the harder it will be to find good dresses," she said. "And I expect the best."

"Right," Harry said. "I'll just go do that now, then."

"Good boy," Hermione said, returning her attention to her book.

* * *

Narcissa's reply arrived two days later.

_Milord,_

_I'm glad to hear you are finally interested in determining your plans regarding Yule celebrations. I've received several invitations for both myself and for you as Head of the Houses of Potter and Black._

_The invitations from the Longbottoms and the Ministry were obviously expected, given your employment by the latter and the phrasing of the former. I took the liberty of replying to confirm your attendance to those events._

_You might also consider attendance at the Greengrasses and the Greys. Lord and Lady Grey were close family friends back in the day, and both families are famously neutral. Neither side dares to move against them purely for fear of being left off the invitation list for their events._

_Several were binned as a matter of principle, since I know you have no desire to be in any proximity to most of the known Dark families like the Parkinsons or the Bulstrodes. For most, the RSVP date is still three weeks away._

_In total, you have received invitations to events from the following Families:_

_The Longbottoms, to which your attendance has been confirmed._

_The Ministry, to which your attendance has been confirmed._

_The Greengrasses_

_The Greys_

_The Parkinsons, which I binned._

_The Bulstrodes, which I binned._

_The Albritons, who I feel are too conservative for your tastes but do not support the Dark Lord._

_The Davises; their daughter Tracey is in your year and the family are friendly with the Greengrasses._

_The Hunts_

_The Smythes_

_The Hills;_

_and The Hoods._

_Please be prompt in your decisions._

_Regards,_

_Narcissa Black_

Harry promptly handed the letter to Hermione, who muttered something about genealogy and books and ran off. She returned later with a very modified letter, in that there were now checks and crosses next to various names on the list.

"So we're going to the Greengrasses, the Greys, the Davises and the Hoods in addition to Neville's and the Ministry?" Harry asked, looking up at his girlfriend.

"Obviously, Harry, they're the ones with checkmarks."

"Why not the rest?" he asked. "Apart from the Parkinsons and the Bulstrodes, obviously."

"The Albritons might as well join the BNP, the Hunts are the old-money fox-hunting type, the Smythes are boring and Scottish, and the Hills because Lord Hill co-sponsored most of Umbridge's discriminatory legislation," Hermione explained.

"Alright, I'll send it out," Harry said. "When d'you want to go shopping?"

"This weekend," Hermione said. "And we can get it all at Gladrags in Hogsmeade. No need to risk the Headmaster's ire by disappearing to London for an afternoon."

"And it's OK to disappear to Hogsmeade for an afternoon?" Harry asked.

"I'm seventeen, I can disappear anywhere if I wish," Hermione said. "The school rules allow me to leave the grounds at week-end now that I'm of-age. I can take you along as an escort, and by staying in Hogsmeade we'd still be close to the castle."

By the end of the first term, Harry was more than ready to get out of Hogwarts and go absolutely anywhere. Snape's end of term Defence exam had been the hardest exam Harry could ever remember enduring, and that was considering that he had completed his OWLs.

Two other things of note had happened the day before the students were due to depart for the winter holidays, and both came from owls.

The first was a formal letter from the Minister.

_Milord Potter_

_Given your presence at the Wizengamot meeting this August, you may be aware that Heads of Departments are called to report the business of the Departments before the Lords prior to Ministerial presentation of any legislation for consideration._

_Mr. Weasley and I have concluded that your position as Special Deputy Minister for Security is, in effect, the Head of a Department, albeit an ad-hoc and wholly temporary one, and consequently shall require you to make a presentation of your Department's activities since the last Session._

_The Chief Warlock assures me there will be no conflict between your need to present to the Lords and your position as one of them. However, considering the changes made to the Ministry since the August session, the procedure will be somewhat different to how it proceeded the last time you experienced it. Minister Fudge was very fond of forcing brevity on his Department Heads, barely allowing them permission to inform the Wizengamot of any pending legislation from their Departments, as is required by law, since he wished to take as much credit for the positive actions of his subordinates as possible._

_I have a different philosophy._

_I have informed all my Department Heads that the Departmental Reports will take roughly the same form they did in the 1960s: the Department Head will give a thorough report of their department's activities and behaviour for the time period, then a summary of any proposed legislation, and then will submit to questioning by the Lords of the Wizengamot, much as my Rt. Hon. Colleague the Prime Minister tells me his Ministers are questioned periodically by Parliament._

_The session is scheduled to begin at noon on December 20. Please arrive to the Ministry at 11 so that we may go over any questions you may have about the process._

_Regards,_

_Amos Diggory, PC_

_Minister for Magic_

_United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland_

The second was a moderately-sized box with a letter on the front, its wax seal bearing what Harry had come to recognise as the coat of arms of the Scarlet Knights.

_Sir Harry,_ the letter began,

_Having been made aware of the potential predicament in securing transport to Avebury for a group of young wizards (and witches) untrained in Apparition and unable to create Portkeys, I have directed through various intermediaries the creation of enough Portkeys to bring your Company to Avebury on 21 December at 9 AM. Please take care to see that they are distributed to the appropriate persons, and that they are informed of the date and time that they will activate. There is no code phrase that need be spoken._

_Regards,_

_Godric Gryffindor_

Inside the box were tokens of similar design to the one which had first taken Harry to the Convocation Chamber beneath the Avebury Henge. He remembered the almost affronted look Nearly Headless Nick had given him when he had asked the ghost how he was to get his Company to Avebury for their training.

"_Pardon, milord?"_

"_I asked if you could find out how I'm to get my Knights and Auxiliaries to Avebury over the hols for our training," Harry repeated. "I was told to come to you with any Knights-related problems I had while at Hogwarts."_

"_Well, yes, but I don't quite think this was the sort of problem that was intended," the ghost replied._

"_Nevertheless, it is a problem, and I'd be much obliged to you, Sir Nicholas, if you could offer me a solution."_

"_I shall speak with Godric, then," Nick said. "You should receive a response within the week."_

"Ah, they've come then?" Nick asked, gliding over Harry's breakfast place.

"Yes, thank you," Harry said. "Only five days too, very good response time."

"I'm glad you're satisfied, milord," Nick said. "I do hope any further issues you have are simpler to solve."

"I'll try, Sir Nicholas," Harry said. Nick nodded and glided away.

"Well, that's that sorted then," Hermione said, from next to him. "Are there enough for us Auxiliaries, or are we going to have to find alternative arrangements?"

"There's enough," Harry confirmed after a quick count. "I'll do the letters this evening and post them in the morning before we leave."

"Excellent. Now hurry your arse up, Defence starts in twenty minutes."

"Hurrying up."

* * *

_A/N: Terrible, yeah? Like I said, it's a transitional chapter, it's not supposed to be fantastic (Not a word, English professors). Next chapter was very fun for me to write, because I've gone and gotten myself addicted to watching the proceedings of Parliament. After that, we'll have some balls and "training", and then pissy!villain!Voldemort will show up in due course to get his arse kicked. Sound good? Sound bad?_

_Let me know in a review!_

_Til the tenth (for srsly this time, cos ch. 30 is in the books),_

_Phoenix II  
_


	30. Chapter 30

The morning of 20 December saw a plum-robed Harry Potter Floo into the Ministry of Magic and take the lift to Level One, where he was greeted by Percy Weasley and escorted into a conference room adjacent to the Office of the Minister.

"Amos decided to do the pre-brief with everyone at once," he explained. Inside the room were all the other Department Heads, only one of which Harry was even remotely familiar with. He nodded to Madam Bones and received a return nod as he grabbed a cup of tea from the service in the room's back corner and settled into a seat across the table from her.

"Good morning, milord," said the pinched-looking Wizard next to him.

"Good morning," Harry replied. "Sorry, who are you?" He could swear he heard Amelia Bones snigger as the older wizard answered.

"Caradoc Baldwin, Head of IMC," he introduced himself.

"Ah," Harry said. "And how are things internationally?"

"They'll be much better once your Department gets its job done," Baldwin said. "The longer the world knows we've a Dark Lord on the loose, the harder it is for Britain to achieve any of our international aims. The price of imports has nearly doubled in the past six months, and rumor has it that the ICW were none too pleased about the note you had our representatives pass along in September."

"I'm working on it," Harry said. "I've just got to track down two items before I can challenge the bastard to a fight and kill him, and then you can go back to negotiating international standards on cauldron bottom thickness."

Baldwin shot Harry a glare just as Amos walked into the room, taking his seat at the head of the table.

"Good morning, everyone!" he said cheerfully. "Ready to face the Wizengamot?"

"Speak for yerself, Amos," a gruff-looking Wizard at the end of the table said. "MAC's had a bloody crazy four months, especially with the attacks 30 August and then the Dark Lord's counter in October."

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Ignatius," Amos replied. "Since all but one of you are old hands at going before the Wizengamot, though you're used to a slightly different procedure, I thought we would use this time to get you acquainted with the way things are going to go today and henceforth." He took his wand and tapped it twice to a gem, which caused folders – similar in style to the large red leather briefing book the Minister carried – to appear before the Department Heads.

Harry curiously opened his to find a list of questions (ten, in total).

"Each of you will see that, at the solicitation of the Chief Warlock, the Lords of the Wizengamot have provided you in advance with the questions they seek to ask you. There is no guarantee all the questions will be asked, as given the nature of your Department, there may be more questions to be answered than there is time to answer them," Amos said. "There is also no guarantee that they will be asked in the order they are listed, so you should be prepared to answer any one of them at any time.

"Now, as all of you will recall, the Order-in-Council of 15 August reorganised and standardised the Ministry's organisation table, necessitating a change in your titles. As such, you are now the Deputy Minister for Magic for International Magical Cooperation, to use Caradoc as an example. I stress this point because this is the title by which you will be called to the lectern by the Chief Warlock. Because of his status as a Member of the Wizengamot and because his title has the prefix of "Special", Lord Potter will be called first, followed by MLE, IMC, MAC, RCMC, Games, and Transport," Amos said, going around the room.

"You will notice that the first question for all of you is the same, and was submitted by the same Lord: 'Will he give us an update on the missions and projects of his Department?' The Chief Warlock has agreed to call on Lord Hood to ask this question at the start of each of your questioning periods. This will enable you to give a brief statement outlining the actions your Department has taken since the last Wizengamot meeting. From there, it is the Chief Warlock's discretion which Lord or Lady he calls, and which question they ask. He may call one who has not submitted a question in advance, so you will have to be on your toes."

The room was quiet as the department heads looked over their question lists. Harry noted that his was the thickest, and then noticed that there were copies of proposed legislation in behind them. While the others read over their questions and began mentally (or physically) composing responses, Harry leaned over towards Amos.

"What're these?" he asked, indicating the proposals.

"Draft legislation proposing that the Wizengamot adopt as binding Wizarding Law some of the Orders-in-Council. Very little of it is actually related to your Department, but since you're the only other Member of the Privy Council in here and the rules require that a Department Head sponsors all legislation…" Amos explained.

"It falls to me. I understand," Harry said. "Which ones?"

"The ones regarding the repeal of all the legislation passed since 1951," Amos replied with a grin. "Excepting the visa/passport synchronisation act and the Muggle Protection Act, since I did forward that to Her Majesty following the Privy Council meeting and received it back the next day confirming that it received Royal Assent, with a note stating that the MPA should also be considered Assented To."

"There doesn't appear to be that many pieces of parchment in here," Harry stated.

"That's because I lumped them together by decade," Amos explained. "They basically say all laws passed by the Wizengamot between 1951 and 1960, 1961-1970, 1971-1980, 1981-90, and 1991-96, excepting the Visa/Passport Synchronisation Act 1996 and the Muggle Protection Act 1992, are to be repealed."

"Aha. Quite ingenious, Minister," Harry said.

"Thank you," Amos said. "It's much simpler than having to do an individual bill for each act to be repealed. Percy drafted them after consulting the solicitors."

"Well, you'll certainly have my vote in the chamber," Harry said.

"I appreciate it. We should probably get everybody headed downstairs, don't you agree?" Amos asked. Harry checked his watch and saw that it was a quarter of noon.

"Yes, yes we should," he agreed. They broke their conversation and led the department heads down to the Wizengamot Chamber, where there was already a healthy presence of the plum-robed contingent, including Dumbledore in the Chief Warlock's seat, who gave Harry a reassuring smile as Amos led the department heads to a red leather bench behind a lectern bearing the Ministry seal. They sat in the order Amos had told them they would be called, with Harry directly behind the lectern and Amos at the far end of the bench, since he would speak last.

Harry caught Augusta Longbottom's eye as she sat down, and she nodded, making a mark on her parchment that he was indeed present so as to avoid any awkwardness during the roll call. Neville mouthed down to Harry that he would save him a seat. Harry mouthed back his thanks. Finally, the clock struck noon and Aurors closed the doors to the Chamber as Dumbledore called the Wizengamot to order. The roll was called, and all 102 Members of the newly slimmed-down body were present.

"Order," Dumbledore announced, and Harry was filled with a nervous anticipation. "We proceed to Questions to the Special Deputy Minister for Magic for Security. The Chair calls Lord Hood." The Lord rose.

"Question number one, Chief Warlock," he said, and sat back down. Harry rose and stood at the lectern.

"Chief Warlock, the Department for Security has, since the previous meeting of this body, made tremendous progress towards the eradication of the scourge of Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters in Britain. We have conducted the 30 August Offensive, which resulted in the arrest of 26 high-rank Death Eaters and the deaths of four others; established The Pandorica Prison, which I understand at present is home to forty-five Death Eaters, pending trials; established, via the Privy Council for Magic, a secure process for these trials which will guarantee that the guilty are punished; and cut the response times of Aurors to reported Death Eater attacks in half," Harry announced.

"Lord Hood," Dumbledore called again.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. Could the Special Deputy Minister give the Wizengamot his assurance that we will see no further reports of Death Eaters escaping prison in the _Daily Prophet_?" the Lord asked.

"I can certainly give him that assurance, as I am sure that he is aware that all of the Death Eaters formerly held in Azkaban are either dead or have been placed in The Pandorica," Harry said, sitting back down quickly and allowing Dumbledore to call the next questioner. The process continued for fifteen minutes, until the final question by Lady Cartwright: "Could the Special Deputy Minister explain the reasoning behind the legislation submitted in his name?" Harry was all too happy to give a brief reminder of the Rules of the Wizengamot pertaining to legislation, and defer further comment to the Minister, before abandoning the bench for his seat next to Neville, who'd given him a nice softball question about halfway through regarding his plans for Security for Hogwarts.

"That went well, yeah?" Harry asked as Dumbledore called on Lord Hood to begin "Questions to the Deputy Minister for Magic for Magical Law Enforcement."

"Could've gone worse," Neville said. "Is this really how the Muggles do it?"

"More or less," Harry said. "'Cept they don't do all the Department Heads at once and each Department gets a roughly 30 minute grilling. If we did that, that'd have been three and a half hours gone in one go."

"Muggles are weird," Neville said. Harry agreed and sat back to watch Amelia Bones take her questioning. Harry thought she'd done far better than he had. Eventually, all the Department Heads had finished.

"The Minister for Magic!" Dumbledore announced, beginning Amos' presentation.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. As you and their Lordships are undoubtedly aware, the month of August saw, as a consequence of Lord Potter's visit to Buckingham Palace on the day of the previous session of this House, the reformation of a Privy Council for Magic, consisting of myself, Lord Potter, my assistant Percival Weasley, Ms. Hermione Granger, the Muggle Prime Minister and Sir Jacob Finch-Fletchey, a Muggle Member of Parliament and father of current Hogwarts student Justin Finch-Fletchey," Amos began.

"One of the first acts of the new Privy Council was to review all of the supposed laws passed by the Wizengamot since the last Privy Council was disbanded. We found that no laws passed since 1951 have received Royal Assent, and thus, through Orders-in-Council, declared that those laws – with the exceptions of two that Her Majesty saw fit to Assent to – are no longer valid laws. The purpose of the legislation before you bearing Lord Potter's name as sponsor is to effect the full repeal of those null and void laws," he continued. Seeing almost palpable outrage on the faces of some of the Lords, he continued quickly to clarify the effect.

"I am aware, Chief Warlock, that some of the laws this legislation would affect are quite popular amongst both members of this House and the public at large, and to them I say: if legislation you favour is affected, we will work with you to re-introduce it and see about passing it again, only this time getting it Royal Assent so that it becomes a valid law. Regardless of your opinions on measures affected by the proposals, any legislation passed since 1951 that did not receive Royal Assent will not be enforced by the Ministry, and that is the fact of the matter," he stated before yielding to an irate Lord Albriton.

"Is the Minister saying he would repeal the Werewolf Registration and Control Act on a technicality?" he asked. "Surely that is a statute which is in the public interest to keep on the books."

"The noble Lord makes a point regarding the Werewolf Registration and Control Act, and I would say to him that yes I would repeal it, because the proper procedures were not followed and because it is simply a biased and discriminatory Act that falls foul of basic legal principles regarding human rights," Amos replied. Albriton began to shout a reply but was cut off by Dumbledore yelling for order.

The debate on the legislation to repeal all the invalid laws lasted the rest of the afternoon, with the Wizengamot readily agreeing to suspend its normal procedures and consider the legislation within the single session. The debate was consistently heated and contentious, and both Harry and Amos spent a great deal of time on their feet supporting the repeal of various discriminatory Acts (most of which Dolores Umbridge had championed before the Wizengamot during the Fudge Ministry). From time to time, Neville would stand and lend support to Harry and the Minister. Finally, as the clock struck five, debate wound down.

"The question is that the Bills repealing the invalid Acts be now passed," Dumbledore said. "As many as are of that opinion, say Content."

A strong chorus of 'Content's rang out.

"To the contrary, Not-Content."

Shouts of "Not-Content!" rang out across the Chamber. Dumbledore looked undecided for a moment.

"Division," he announced. "The Contents will make their way to the right-hand stairway, the Not-Contents to the left. Tellers for the Contents will be Lord Potter and Lord Grey, Tellers for the Not-Contents will be Lord Albriton and Lord Parkinson."

There was a loud murmuring as the Lords of the Wizengamot made their way to the indicated stairways. Harry and Lord Grey made their way to the bottom, to be able to count the number of Lords and Ladies in their camp, while Lords Albriton and Parkinson did the same for theirs. Augusta Longbottom joined them, handing each a copy of the roll with checkboxes next to each name for Content and Not-Content. She briefly explained that each copy was linked with hers and she would tell them the final count.

Harry and Lord Grey spent the next five minutes checking the Content box next to various Lords and Ladies. They noticed with some satisfaction that the Not-Contents finished their count first, and assembled before Dumbledore's seat looking grim. When their own count was finished, Augusta produced a slip of parchment and gave it to Harry, who saw that it contained the vote counts and the proper verbiage for him to announce it to the Wizengamot. He and Lord Grey joined Albriton and Parkinson before Dumbledore.

Once the rest of the Lords and Ladies were back in their seats, Dumbledore called for order to quiet them and nodded at Harry. He and the other three Lords bowed, took a step forward, and bowed again before Harry spoke.

"The Contents to the right, 60, the Not-Contents to the left, 42," he announced, handing the slip of parchment up to Dumbledore.

"The Contents to the right, 60, the Not-Contents to the left, 42," Dumbledore repeated. "So the Contents have it. The Question is accordingly agreed to." Harry and the other three Lords bowed once again before resuming their seats.

"The Chair recognises the Minister," Dumbledore announced.

"Chief Warlock, I beg to move that consideration of all remaining legislation be postponed until the meeting of 21 January," Amos said.

"The Question is that consideration on the remaining legislation be postponed until the meeting on 21 January," Dumbledore said. "As many as are of that opinion say Content."

The cries of "Content" were even louder this time.

"To the contrary, Not-Content." Two stodgy old Lords voiced opposition to the postponement.

"I think the Contents have it," Dumbledore said. "Consideration will be postponed until 21 January. The Minister for Magic."

"I beg to move that the Wizengamot do now adjourn until 21 January," Amos said.

"The Question is that the Wizengamot do now adjourn until 21 January," Dumbledore said. "As many as are of that opinion say Content."

"Content!" shouted the Lords.

"To the contrary, Not-Content." There was complete silence this time.

"I think the Contents have it. The Wizengamot stands adjourned until 21 January. Order," Dumbledore said. A stuffy-looking wizard wearing a wig came forward and took hold of a gold stick standing in front of the lectern and walked forward from the Chamber. One by one, everyone followed him out.

"Well, that could've gone worse," Harry said, falling into step with Amos as they exited the chamber.

"Indeed. I'm truly quite astonished that there was so much argument even after I told them point blank that the affected laws would not be enforced anyway," Amos said.

"It did get a bit ridiculous, didn't it?" Harry asked. "At least now I got a good sense of why Hermione was so keen on keeping me away from Lord Albriton's ball."

"He's a right honourable bastard, that's for sure," Neville said with a cheeky grin. Amos and Harry both laughed.

"Out of curiosity, just what was postponed until January?" Harry asked.

"Just two minor Bills," Amos said. "One from MAC to revise the Obliviator qualifications and one from Transport to raise the price of Floo Powder to a sickle an ounce."

"Oh," Harry said. "Is there anything further you need from me, Minister?"

"No, but I'll see you at the ball, correct?"

"Yes, Minister," Harry replied. _Once I figure out how the bloody hell to commute to and from Avebury without the use of bloody Portkeys, _he added in his head.

"I'll see you in the morning, yeah Harry?" Neville asked as the two made their way to the fireplaces, leaving Amos to catch a lift to the Minister's office.

"9 AM, Nev. Don't be late!" Harry confirmed, before setting back off to his Manor for his final night as someone with any claim to civilian status. He knew not what the next day had in store for him, but he had a feeling it was going to be awesome.

* * *

_A/N: Having done extensive study on Parliament over the past two months, that involved multiple hours' viewing of both the House of Commons and the House of Lords, I can say with near 100% certainty that I've done that part of this chapter properly, with the exception of the liberties I took that allowed the Bills to be voted on in one session and the way the vote was announced. While it's technically possible to take a Bill from First Reading to Third in a single session, it's very difficult, and very few of you came here expecting to read a treatise on parliamentary procedure. As far as the vote announcement goes, that's more akin to the way the Commons does it, with the exception of the proper Lords' verbiage of "Content" and "Not-Content" substituted for "Aye" and "Noe". Also, I'm not quite sure if the Lords use tellers._

_Now that I'm done with school for the semester, I can hopefully get ahead of myself with my writing again. Next chapter, we'll come up with a quick and relatively painless way for the Knights to learn a bunch of awesome magic. I'm up for suggestions as to what kinds of funky, arcane knowledge you want them to learn._

_Also, next chapter will be this story's first birthday. Hopefully, there won't be a second, because the quality of my writing seems to deteriorate the longer I spend on a story.  
_

_Cheers,_

_Phoenix II  
_


	31. Chapter 31

"I bloody hate Portkeys," Harry muttered as he accepted Neville's hand to help himself off the ground.

"You've really got to learn how to work these things, Harry," Neville said. "The Floo and the Portkey. You can't just Apparate everywhere."

"Says who?" Harry challenged.

"Says places with anti-Apparition wards," Neville replied. "Like Hogwarts, for example." Harry was silent for a moment.

"Bollocks," he said.

"If you two are quite finished?" the voice of Godric Gryffindor inquired from his place above the big chair.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, looking around to find that all the Portkeys had worked as directed and brought his company to him.

"Is this everyone?"

"Yes. The men of my Company and the ladies of my Auxiliary," Harry said.

"They look rather young," Godric said.

"We'll take that as a compliment," the Twins said.

"You've made all the preparations?" Godric asked, ignoring them.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Well then in that case, if someone would be so kind as to cast a _Lumos Maxima_, we can all have a look around."

* * *

The spell activated a series of non-torch lights that reminded Harry of the fluorescent overhead lights in Tesco. Consequently, a greater deal of illumination was present than when Harry had previously visited, which revealed far more details about the Headquarters of the Scarlet Knights.

The ceiling was at least 10 meters above the floor and there was a small opening about the size of a barn owl.

"We can get mail?" Tony Goldstein asked. "But how? It's three below outside, why isn't it cold in here if there's a hole in the roof?"

"Because it's warded to keep the weather out," Hermione said, pre-empting Godric's similar explanation.

"Quite. Now, this is the Convocation Chamber," Godric said, looking quite put-off at Hermione being able to explain the presence of a ward scheme before him. "This is where you Convene. The table will adjust itself overnight to reflect your number without gaping spaces of empty seats. The portraits on the walls are former Knight Commanders of the Order, various ancestors of Lord Potter dating back to 1074."

All of the portraits said "Hello."

"If you'll all turn around," Godric said, pausing while the teens did so, "you'll see three staircases. I'd like you to take the left-hand staircase now."

They did so and were met at the top of the winding staircase by another portrait of Gryffindor.

"This floor is where you will be spending most of your time here," he said. "The doors down the left end of the hall are training rooms. They appear to be rather close together, but they're bigger on the inside. Down the right end is the Armoury. As the Order has been extant for over 900 years, we have accumulated a considerable cache of weaponry and armour. Very little of it is suitable for actual combat, except perhaps the goblin-made swords from the 1300s, before they threw one of their little fits and refused to craft items for Wizards anymore, but they should be suitable for training exercises."

Hermione looked scandalised that anyone would refer to the Goblin Rebellions (which had a habit of being long and bloody) as "a little fit". Godric ignored her.

"Proceed back downstairs and then go up the central staircase," he instructed.

At the top of the next staircase, they found Godric waiting for them. There were no side hallways, nor any doorways.

"Look up."

A trapdoor was discovered above the Knights' heads.

"Scarlet Pride," Godric said, and the trapdoor swung open, allowing a second staircase to descend.

"This leads to a country house outside the outer henge. It is hidden by ancient wards. Within the house are sleeping quarters and dining facilities. There is a Floo connection, but it will have to be activated by Lord Potter. I will instruct him on how to do so later."

Harry and the rest who had plans to attend various Yule Balls grinned.

"Back downstairs, then take the right-hand staircase!"

At the top of the right-hand staircase was a similar setup to the top of the left-hand staircase: two hallways after the landing.

"This is where the fun will begin. There are sixteen of you, correct?"

"Yes," Harry replied, after turning around and doing a quick head count of the guys.

"Sixteen rooms down the left hall, then," the portrait said. "You'll begin using them this afternoon, following your time in the room down the right hall."

"And what's down the right hall?" Anthony Goldstein asked.

"Ritual room," Godric said. "There is a list of rituals that will get the lot of you to your optimal physical state and sufficiently open your minds to allow the information dumps you'll be getting down the hall."

"Information dumps?" Ron asked.

"It's how it's been done for four centuries now. Gives you more time to work on what you 'learn'," Godric said.

"And what do we 'learn'?" Harry asked.

"Oh, this and that. Some very nifty curses, a high-level conjuration or three, some weird Asian magic, Apparition, Portkey manufacture, and because you have a pervert somewhere in your ancestry, sex magic."

"Sex magic?" Hermione asked, the only girl of the six who hadn't squealed with excitement. "But that's been outlawed since the 1590s."

"Oh, who cares?" Ron asked. "If there's a way to use sex to beat the Death Eaters, I'm all for it."

"As long as it doesn't involve buggering Snape," Neville said.

"Or Jugson," Ron said. "That git's a bloody troll."

"Yes, no, that's not what sex magic is," Godric said. "It's technically ritual magic, and I say technically because it's difficult to classify some of the ways these people came up with to shag as a ritual, and also because unlike normal rituals, the two participants aren't normally the target of the ritual's effects."

"But there's sixteen of them and only six of us," Hannah Abbott pointed out.

"Yes, but four of you are Purebloods. Problem solved," Godric said. Hermione was torn between sending a Blasting Hex at the portrait and wondering just how magical Harry would be in bed, given the talking-to she'd been given by Daphne and the others.

"He's got a point," Daphne said. "We'll talk later, Hermione."

"Now, what else is there?" Godric asked, quite rhetorically as none of the others knew. "Oh yes. Runes, Warding, Mastery-level Transfiguration, and, because you have to know what you're up against, a bit of Dark Magic."

Everybody gasped in astonishment.

"It's not anything more than what you'd encounter in a Defence textbook," Godric said. "But you need to know how to recognise Entrail-Expelling Curses and Blood Boiling Hexes and the like, because those are some of the Dark Wizards' favourites."

"So we're not going to actually learn the Dark Arts, just about them?" Zach Smith asked.

"Correct."

Everybody breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now, if you'll head up to the country house and settle in, we can begin preparations for the rituals."

* * *

The country house, in Harry's opinion, was brilliant. In fact, it reminded him of Potter Manor quite considerably. He presumed – but wouldn't tell Hermione – that it was staffed by house-elves.

He'd claimed the Master Suite for himself, an adjoining suite for Hermione, with Ron and Neville in rooms across the hall on the top floor. The rest of the Company and the Auxiliaries were settled in on the next floor. Justin had turned a particularly interesting shade of red when Daphne Greengrass had claimed the adjoining room and winked at him before shutting her door.

"Milord, if you could proceed to the parlour, I can instruct you on setting up the Floo connection," Godric said, popping into a portrait in the Master Bedroom.

Harry followed him downstairs and spent ten minutes swearing at a fireplace. Finally, though, he was able to establish a connection. Discreetly calling a house-elf, he sent it to Diagon Alley to acquire additional Floo Powder, since there did not appear to be much left in the jar on the mantle.

Following that and a lunch that Justin and Daphne turned up curiously late for, the boys headed for the ritual room while the girls were dragged by Hermione into the country house's Library.

"Who's excited?" Harry asked as the boys stood in the hallway outside the ritual room, which was apparently "configuring itself".

All the muggle-borns and half-bloods raised their hands. The three Slytherins looked bored.

"Why aren't you three excited?" Harry asked.

"We participate in, and perform, rituals all the time," Harper answered. "They're nothing particularly new to us, even the ones we're going to be undergoing here."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Knowledge-absorption rituals are common in Slytherin House before exams, and before this year it was not uncommon for the Quidditch team to undergo physical enhancement rituals before a match."

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs didn't exactly take this very well. Harper merely shrugged.

"It's not against the rules," he said. "At least, as long as they don't catch you. So obviously, we never let Crabbe or Goyle in on the knowledge-absorption rituals. It would be too suspicious."

"Yes, I imagine it would," Harry said, as a chime sounded. "Right, I guess that's my cue. The rest of you just wait out here, I guess."

Harry entered the ritual room and grabbed a small stack of parchments off a pedestal on the outskirts of a ritual circle. A quick glance told him that these were the directions. On a shelf were various powdered ingredients. The ritual circle itself consisted of a white-chalk pentagram within a circle of black candles, all of which were burning without dripping wax.

Grabbing six small limestone bowls filled with various powders, Harry sat cross-legged on the pentagram and arrayed the bowls in a semi-circle in front of him. From there, he followed the directions on the parchment, flinging the various powders into the air and reciting a phrase in what looked to be Greek, which cause the powders to flash and sparkle before flying up his nose. A final phrase caused the candle flames to treble in height and a rush of magic to flare through Harry that left him light-headed and short of breath.

Once his breathing evened out and the stars stopped dancing in front of his eyes, he noticed that the candles were burning at their previous height, that the powders shelf was full once again, and a new set of parchment was on the pedestal. Also, that his clothes felt a bit too tight.

Standing up, he felt that he was considerably taller than he had been previously. That made the walk back over to the pedestal and the subsequent trip to the powders shelf and the return to the pentagram quite awkward.

The second ritual left him feeling continuously light-headed.

"Bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff," Harry sang under his breath as the room re-set itself once again. This time, the parchment was for the physical enhancement ritual, which Harry took as his cue to vacate the ritual room and let the next person in the queue have their go while he had his first info dump.

"How'd it go, Harry?" Neville asked as he exited, managing to ask his question before Ron shouted "Blimey, you look good, mate!"

"Felt weird," Harry said. "My brain feels fuzzy right now, I think I'd probably get down and try out that learning stuff. Maybe the sex stuff will be first?"

"Hermione hopes," Ron said with a smirk. The rest of the guys did too. Harry grinned.

"We'll see, then. Who's got next?"

"Me," Neville said. "Cheers, Harry."

"Cheers, mate," Harry said, pushing his way through the throng of waiting teens while Neville entered the ritual room. He made his way to the first door down the left-side hallway, which had 'H. Potter' engraved on a nameplate. 'N. Longbottom' was on the next door down.

"What have you got for me this time?" Harry asked as he took in the setup: a stone slab with what looked like a Pensieve where the pillow would normally be. Lying down, Harry was careful to avoid coming into contact with the Pensieve-thing's surface. Finally, he lowered his head and made contact.

* * *

_A/N: I'll admit that the cliffhanger at the end is a bit contrived. I've been rushing all day to try and get this to my minimum posting standard (which it just clears at a little over 2000 words), and I quite simply don't have the time to put in anything else (it's 20 minutes before midnight as I type this). Also, the last bit of dialogue is an intentional Doctor Who reference. Sorry this chapter is so bloody awful. I promise to try and make up for it next time with some fancy dresses and some on-camera (as it were) snogging. (And perhaps allusions to some off-camera shagging.)_

_Until the 30th (hopefully before bloody midnight, too)_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	32. Chapter 32

_A/N: I'm back, ladies and gentlemen! You've only been waiting about a month for this, so let's skip any further long-windedness and get to the chapter. I'll see you below!  
_

* * *

Harry woke up with a start. His brain felt overstuffed, and sitting up quickly gave him a blood rush that made him dizzy.

"Whoa!" he said. Shaking his head to dispel the wooziness, he grabbed his wand and cast a Tempus charm.

_8:28 AM 22 December 1996_, he saw.

"Wow, I've been in here for 18 hours?" he asked the air. His stomach rumbled.

"Master Sir Harry is needing to come to the dining room in the House," a house-elf said, popping into the room.

"Where are the others?" Harry asked.

"Mistresses Daphne, Hermione, Susan, Hannah, Luna and Ginevra be being in the dining room already. Other Masters still asleep in these rooms," the elf replied. "Master Sirs Harper, Urquhart, and Vaisey are still processing and can't be waked up."

"How long will it be?"

"Mipsy is not knowing," the elf said. "Mister Godric might be able to tell."

"Alright, I'll get moving," Harry said. "Could you wake up everybody who can be woken up and send them on their way up too?"

"Mipsy do," the elf said with a nod before disappearing with a pop.

Stretching, Harry cast a series of cleaning charms on himself, hoping to make up for the fact he was still wearing his previous day's clothes. He hoped he'd have time to take care of that after breakfast.

First things first, however, he stopped at the portrait of Godric in the middle of the hallway, looking for an explanation on the timing.

"The download itself takes 10 hours," the portrait said. "After that, the pillowsieves trigger a sleeping charm to give your brain a solid eight hours to process all the new information. The fact that there were sixteen of you, and each of your first had to do a half-hour's worth of rituals starting at 2 PM meant that the last of your Company weren't able to begin the downloads until 10 PM last night."

"So that one finished the download at 8 and just started the processing?"

"Pretty much," Godric said. "They'll wake up this afternoon. The lot of you have the day off, since the last few won't have much of an opportunity to do anything. That said, it might behoove you to spend some time in the library, or with the girls."

"I'm sure a couple of them will be more than happy to do the second," Harry said. "Myself, I'm going to be preparing myself to be dragged to balls this evening."

"Ah. Being domesticated, eh? Well, I guess it's best to start early."

"Do shut up," Harry said. "So I suppose I'll just expect the rest of the blokes to trickle in at half-hour intervals, then?"

"More or less," Godric said.

"Alright then," Harry said. "Breakfast ahoy."

He walked down the stairs, turned to the right and headed up to the House, where he found the girls in the dining room chatting over pumpkin juice and tea.

"Good morning, girls," Harry said, walking in.

"Morning, Harry," they chorused.

"Where are the other guys?" Hannah asked.

"Sleeping," Harry said. "Processing all the information we got yesterday."

"Oh," Hannah said. Daphne looked him over and licked her lips.

"Do you think the ritual had this kind of effect on the lot of them?" she asked. "Mr. Potter here is looking _delicious_."

Harry had the decency to turn slightly red.

"Don't forget, they've learned sex magic too," Luna said. "I think we shall all have quite a good amount of fun after the Balls."

"Oh, don't remind me," Harry said, loading up his plate with eggs and bacon. "I've got to go collect Draco and Narcissa later."

"Why isn't Draco here already? I'd have thought you would have made him a Knight," Daphne queried.

"He can't be one," Harry said. "He may not be supporting the Dark Lord, but he's still a Dark Wizard. They can't be in the Knights."

"Oh," she said. "I suppose that makes sense. That and, for the life of me, I can't see Draco looking good in red."

This comment inspired a rash of giggling amongst most of the other girls, save Hermione who merely rolled her eyes.

"What are you guys planning on doing today?" Hermione asked.

"Not a lot," Harry said. "Recover, mostly. The last of us won't even be awake until four this afternoon."

"Recover?"

"From having information crammed into our heads for ten hours after two enhancement rituals," Harry elaborated. "Apparently the download came with an eight hour sleeping charm."

"So no practicing what you learned?" Daphne asked with a pout.

"No organised practicing," Harry said. "Everyone's free to do whatever."

"Good to know," Daphne asked. "When do you think Finch-Fletchey will be out?"

"I think he was third in line after me, so about ten, ten-thirty," Harry said.

"Ta, Harry." Daphne proceeded to leave the room.

"Well, that was odd," Harry said to nobody in particular, as he concentrated on eating his breakfast.

"Harry, can you meet me in the library sometime before you head to the Manor to retrieve Draco and Narcissa?" Hermione asked.

"Sure thing," Harry said. "When do you want to leave for Neville's?"

"Five," Hermione said. "Apparently, the dinner is the best part of the Longbottoms' Ball, and it is Not To Be Missed."

Shortly after Neville had made his way into the dining room, Harry and Hermione made their way to the country house's library.

"What did you want?" Harry asked.

"I need to talk with you," Hermione said. "You remember after we started dating, the girls you'd been shagging dragged me off for that talk?"

"Yeah, and I also remember you wouldn't talk to me about what they told you," Harry said.

"Well, it's about that. Now that it's time for the Balls, we need to talk strategy."

"Strategy?" Harry asked, confused.

"As many etiquette lessons as you had with Draco this summer, surely you know the tradition."

"Oh, where all the girls hit on me and I take one home at the end of the night to shag rotten?"

"Yes, that one," Hermione said, distaste evident in her voice. "That one, which would involve me going around and whoring it up to all the other men there while you search for a different pretty thing."

"I take it you're not fond of it then?"

"No, and I have no intention of letting you do it in the way they want you to," Hermione said.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"It means you're getting an early Christmas present tonight," Hermione said, looking him straight in the eye. "And tomorrow night, and Christmas Eve."

"If I don't try and pick up another girl, I get presents?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Presents that they suggested you'd be very fond of," Hermione said

"Presents that involve a lack of knickers on your part?" Harry ventured, hoping he would avoid being slapped.

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, then, I'll be extra careful to behave myself," Harry promised.

"Good boy," Hermione said. "Now, onto actual serious things: what kinds of things have you learned that don't involve getting naked?"

Harry thought for a moment.

"Got quills?" he asked with a grin, not at all surprised when Hermione proved to have two.

"Excellent," he said, taking them and setting them opposite each other on the table. He noted the species of bird each quill had come from and waved his wand, transfiguring each quill into the particular bird. They proceeded to fly up in the air, and attack each other by breathing fire. Hermione shrieked in terror. Harry smirked as he cancelled the magic, floating two quills back over to the table.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

"Transfigurations to create the birds, charms to animate them, make them mad at each other, and breathe fire," Harry answered. "It's awesome because who expects owls and rats to start breathing fire?"

"Nobody sensible," Hermione said.

"You wound me," Harry said.

"Shut up. So you've learned high-level transfiguration, animation, and other assorted high-level charms, in addition to the sex stuff?"

"Plus the things I know about the Dark Arts now," Harry said. "More than I've ever learned in DADA. Merlin, some Dark Wizards are, or were, really, really depraved people. Oh, and the Runes, and Warding. Those look like fun, I'm kinda wishing I'd taken Runes now. It's tied into the warding, apparently, though very few modern warders still bother to use Runes."

"How do you figure?"

"If the Fidelius Charm on my parents' house had been runic, a secrecy rune would have been written in that would have prohibited Wormtail from ever betraying them. Tom wouldn't have even been able to dig the secret out via legilimency."

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Why are you asking me?" Harry asked. "You're the one who takes Runes, I've just got it put in my head."

"Because we're not quite to such practical applications of runes yet, Harry," Hermione chided.

"Oh," Harry said. "Well then. Yes, I think. If it was blood-powered by Mum, Dad, Wormtail and me, it would have been tantamount to Wormtail taking a Blood Oath not to betray us."

"That sounds very interesting," Hermione said. They continued to discuss similar applications of Runes for three hours. After lunch (for which Daphne and Justin were noticeably absent, much to Harry's non-surprise and everyone else's seeming non-attention), he headed for the Floo.

"Honey, I'm home!" Harry called as he stepped through the Floo into Potter Manor. It took all of thirty seconds for Draco to make his way into the parlour with a disapproving frown on his face.

"Really?" he asked. "Thank Merlin I'm not married to you, Potter, I'd kill you within a week."

"Thank Merlin I'm not married to you, Black, I'd kill myself within a week," Harry retorted. "You and your mum ready to be off for your two day holiday?"

"Well, I am," Draco said. "Mum was still looking at dresses when I heard your…entrance."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well then. Shall we?" he asked, heading up the staircase to the room Narcissa was living in.

"I suppose, Potter, since you seem intent on doing so anyway," Draco said, following him at a considerable distance. "At least have the decency to knock."

"Oh, like I was going to barge in on your potentially naked mum?" Harry asked. "What type of degenerate do you take me for?"

"A Gryffindor one," Draco shot back. Harry paused for a moment to consider it.

"Touche," he said, knocking on the door and quickly receiving permission to enter. Smirking at Draco, he entered to find Narcissa fully clothed and just shutting a suitcase. He also noted, following a quick glance about the room, that one of the closets was empty.

"Space enhancement charm?" he asked.

"Of course," Narcissa said. "It will permit me more time to make the decision as to what I wish to wear this evening."

'_As if you haven't had a month already,'_ Harry thought. "Of course," he said. "We'll be departing from the Other Place at five for the Longbottoms. I don't wish to miss dinner."

"Of course, milord," Narcissa said. With a wave of her wand, the suitcase rose into the air to follow her. "Shall we depart, then?"

"Yes, I think we shall," Harry said. The three made their way back to the parlour.

"The destination is Scarlet House," Harry told them. Draco went first, followed by Narcissa. While they were on their way, Harry decided it would be a good thing to notify his house-elves what there would not be to do over the next few days.

"Tilly?" Harry called, and was attended quickly thereafter by his Head House-Elf.

"Draco and Narcissa will be back late on Christmas Eve," he said. "Inform the kitchen staff."

"Yes, Master Harry," Tilly said, popping away. Harry stepped into the Floo and departed for Scarlet House.

"Wow, Hermione, you look amazing," Harry said. His girlfriend had chosen an ensemble resembling that of her Yule Ball ensemble of two years previous, and she looked just as wonderful to Harry.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said, as she led a line of women down the stairs. The other girls who were heading to the Longbottom Ball were dressed in House colours, with the exception of Hannah Abbott, who looked rather resplendent in a light-blue number.

Harry and Neville were both dressed in formal robes: black with their house crest on the left breast. Draco, no longer the Heir to a House, was in simple green and silver dress robes.

"Everybody ready?" Harry asked. He received a series of confirmatory nods. "Nev, you wanna do the honours and lead us out?"

Neville took the hint and made for the Floo Powder, announcing his destination in a sharp, clear voice: "Longbottom Place." The rest of the group followed soon after.

For Harry, the entire night was an interesting experience. Having never been to a family Ball, he had no idea what to expect, and he was thankful that the Longbottom's ball was fairly easy to understand. There was a receiving line (which consisted of the living members of House Longbottom) outside the Formal Dining Room, where dinner was served. True to Neville's statement on the train, Harry saw the three Aurors who had killed the Lestranges wearing their version of what Harry would call dress uniforms. He was somewhat surprised to be seated as near to the head of the table as he was, even more surprised that those who had arrived with him (in particular Draco, Narcissa, and Daphne) were afforded seats quite close to his own.

The dinner consisted of a salad, a soup course (he didn't recognise it, but that didn't say much, considering his experience with soup consisted of failure in a tin), some delicious hors d'oeuvres, and a main course consisting of several roast goose spread out amongst some 100 attendees, complimented by an array of vegetables and followed by some very delicious pies.

This was all followed by the "dancing" part of the ball. A string quartet had set up in a corner of the "ballroom", which Harry would have sworn had not been so configured during his previous visit to Neville's house. Of course, Harry found after three twirls around the room with Hermione, Daphne, and Susan, only the young people actually bothered dancing. Everybody else was sitting along the edge and conversing.

The conversations eventually made their way to Harry in the form of Neville and Augusta.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lord Potter?" the Longbottom matriarch asked.

"Oh yes," Harry said. "I think it's brilliant. Very filling."

"Filling?"

"Well, I don't really get that many five-course meals, and the company is wonderful," Harry said. "So it's physically and spiritually filling. I'm having fun."

"I'm glad to hear it," Augusta said. "And I would like to say to you in person, as I have already to those wonderful Aurors, thank you for working to rid the world of those horrid people. I'm not ashamed to admit I celebrated the events of August 30 for a solid week."

"As did I," Narcissa said, coming up to join the conversation.

"Truly?" Augusta asked, turning to the younger woman.

"Oh yes. Lucius was a most unpleasant man, and Harry's house-elves have been most helpful in instructing the former Malfoy elves how to perform their duties properly since they no longer have to be in fear for their lives."

"Always nice when someone doesn't treat the help like dirt," Augusta agreed, leading Narcissa off to converse further and leaving Harry and Hermione with Neville.

"So, were you being serious or just bullshitting Gran?" Neville asked.

"Totally serious," Harry said. "This is amazing."

"I notice you're not paying the traditional amounts of attention to the ladies," Neville quipped.

"Nope," Harry said. "I'm behaving myself," he said, with a smile on his face and a subtle glance towards Hermione.

"Oh, you're _behaving yourself_, are you?" Neville asked, with just a hint of subtle incredulity.

"Yep," Harry said. "I can't wait to _unwrap_ my _present._"

"Oh, it's going to be like that, is it? I suppose it's always the bookish ones," Neville said.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Neville said quickly. "I think I'd best go find Hannah before one of these old goats gets any ideas." He hurried away from the couple.

"Hm. I wonder what Neville was insinuating, don't you?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione with an expression of total innocence on his face.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Harry Potter. You keep that up, I won't say yes to Daphne's repeated requests for a threesome."

"I'll stop," Harry said, swallowing hard. "That's a hell of a Christmas present, y'know," he added.

"Yes, she is quite the looker. I bet not a single guy here knows she spent four hours today putting Justin through his paces."

"Just how do _you_ know that?" Harry asked, trying very hard not to choke on his spit.

"They didn't bother to put up any silencing charms this afternoon," Hermione said. "She made him do _everything._"

Harry, being well-acquainted with the sexual habits of one Daphne Greengrass, only had one thought running through his head that he could vocalize: "That lucky fucker."

"Harry!"

"What? She's _good_," Harry protested.

"I _know_ she's good, Harry," Hermione said. "You think Justin was the only one she was getting horny with all that screaming?"

There was a silence as her words sunk in.

"So, you wanna head back then?" Harry asked, trying to look casual.

"Oh yeah," Hermione said. "You've definitely earned your present tonight, Mr. Potter."

* * *

_A/N: And, there we go. At this point, there are no plans to actually write any explicit sex, like I've done for previous stories; just infer the hell out of it. I hope I can get back on schedule now, but I'm sad to say updates may be few and far between this semester, since I've been tasked with a 20-page journal article that I must research and write the hell out of, on top of seven exams and four other papers and work, which leaves me very little me time._

_I will still try to deliver you this story as close to the schedule as I can, but I'm also short on ideas of what else exactly needs to happen in the rest of the story, aside from all the Death Eaters die, the last two Horcruxes get the axe (or, well, sword, but you get the picture), and Harry kills Voldieface._

_If you've got suggestions you'd like to see before I go ahead and do all that, let me know in a review._

_Ta,_

_Phoenix II  
_


	33. Chapter 33

"Master Potter, there is a man in the fire asking for you," Mipsy said, popping in and interrupting Harry's practice duel with Neville shortly after eleven a.m. on New Year's Day.

"Oh?" Harry asked, turning to his elf while holding his forearm out towards Neville and sitting behind his shield, while Neville continued to cast. "Did he say who he is or what he wanted?"

"Yes sir," Mipsy said. "Is being Minister Diggory and he wants to talk to you about a will, sir."

"I see. Tell him I'll be there in a moment," Harry said. Mipsy nodded and popped away.

"Neville, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this short," Harry said. Neville nodded in understanding.

Harry made his way upstairs to the main Floo in the parlour, where Amos Diggory was waiting for him.

"Could you come through, m'lord?" Amos asked. "The matter I need to discuss with you is best spoken of in private."

"Certainly, Minister," Harry replied. Instructing the portrait of one of his great-grandfathers to inform someone that he was heading to the Ministry, Harry stepped into the Floo and stated his destination.

Arriving in the Minister's office, Harry noticed the presence of two other men. One was Minister Diggory, but he didn't recognise the second. Clearly, this confusion was written visibly on his face, as Amos moved quickly to make introductions.

"Lord Potter, this is Dirk Cresswell, Assistant Deputy Minister for Goblin Relations, Head of the Goblin Liason Office."

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry said. "So, you mentioned something about a will, Minister?"

"Yes," Diggory said. "You may not know this, m'lord, but the Ministry has a law called the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation that gives the Ministry to interfere with the execution of a will, should the will contain provisions to pass on Dark artifacts to inheritors."

"OK," Harry said.

"Normally, the time limit for such actions is 31 days, but in the case we'll be discussing today, we were able to get an Order from the Judges of the Wizengamot to extend that statutory authority to give us time to determine the proper course of action," Diggory said.

"Alright. What's the case we'll be discussing today, and what does it have to do with me?" Harry asked.

"The LeStrange estate," Cresswell said. "There turned out to be several issues in this inheritance case, not the least of which being determining who was to inherit what from whom, as Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix were all each other's beneficiaries, and they were all killed during the same raid."

"So it's a massive estate," Harry said. "Was the extra time needed to simply go through everything?"

"Yes, basically," Cresswell said. "We approached the Goblins to provide us with an accounting of everything in the Vaults belonging to the LeStranges based on the terms of the will as we understood it: Rodolphus' possessions would pass to Rabastan, as he was killed first, and then their combined possessions to Bellatrix, who was killed last. That process was completed this morning, and is why we're meeting."

"Is there a problem with the accounts?" Harry asked.

"Yes, milord," Cresswell said. "The goblins said they found something in Bellatrix' vault, the presence of which they claim is offensive to them in two ways: first, it is stolen property, and second it is something that translates to 'soul box'."

Harry's neck hairs rose at this statement. "A soul box?"

"Yes. The item in question, reputed to be a goblet belonging to Helga Hufflepuff, was reported missing by the heirs of Hepzibah Smith back in 1947, and both the Goblins and a pair of Unspeakables that examined the goblet claim it to have been enchanted to house a soul fragment, though they're not sure whose it is."

"I know," Harry said. "It's Mr. Riddle, the goblet is one of his two remaining Horcruxes."

"What's a Horcrux?" Diggory asked.

"Mr. Cresswell just told us," Harry said. "But you may ask the Unspeakables or Professor Dumbledore if you want a more thorough explanation."

"What makes you suspect it is indeed Mr. Riddle who made this Horcrux?" Diggory asked.

"The Headmaster and I have been tracking down and destroying them in our spare time this last term. We've destroyed two items with connections to the Founders that have been determined to be Horcruxes, and suspect that any remaining Horcuxes would also have similar connections," Harry said. "That, and Tom Riddle is unquestionably the only wizard in the last century both Dark enough and powerful enough to create any Horcruxes."

"So it's a Dark artifact, then," Cresswell pressed.

"Yes," Harry said. "And I'd like it boxed and turned over to me for destruction at the earliest opportunity."

"Destruction?" Cresswell and Diggory both asked, incredulous. "A relic of the Founders?"

"Yes," Harry said. "If you were listening a minute ago, I'd told you I'd already done two, and unless you both want Riddle to continue to not be susceptible to death when the time comes, any stray piece of his soul – and its container – must be destroyed."

"Yes, of course, but –" both of the two older men continued to protest.

"If it makes you feel any better, I will promise to try and minimise the damage done to the goblet in the course of the removal of the soul fragment within," Harry said.

The Minister and Mr. Cresswell both agreed to this proposal with a mild sense of unease and regret written on their faces.

"Excellent, then," Harry said. "Now, where is it?"

"Er, it's at Gringotts," Cresswell said. "And that's the last part of the problem."

"Do go on," Harry said. "It's really quite frustrating, these multi-part problems, you know. Out with it."

"The goblins are refusing to turn over the goblet to just anybody with the Ministry, including me. They're well within their rights to do so under the terms of the 1827 Treaty which includes a provision that the Goblins may deal with crimes involving stolen property that are in part perpetrated within Goblin territory in their own way. Their claim is that since the item was stolen from a Gringotts customer in violation of a written Will, by a second Gringotts customer, and stored in the vault of a third, Gringotts will retain possession of it and is demanding that the Ministry of Magic provide satisfaction to them in the form of a culprit to the crime," Cresswell explained.

Harry took this in and paused a moment.

"What can we do to obtain the goblet?" he asked. "It is of vital importance that the soul within it be removed."

Cresswell took a deep breath.

"Well, the Goblins respect two things, really, honesty and strength. If a person of high stature, accompanied by a large group of warriors, were to, say, march on Gringotts, I'm sure that with sufficient forewarning as to the purpose of the march, Goblin representatives might be present and an adequate solution amenable to both sides may be worked out," he suggested.

Harry immediately stood.

"Excellent. Mr. Cresswell, if you would inform whoever you need to at Gringotts, I will set out down Diagon at one. If you'll excuse me, I need to round up some Aurors," he said, bowing respectfully to Amos before walking out of the Minister's office and heading for his own, and Moody's.

"Mad-Eye, you cantankerous old bastard, where are you?" Harry asked, bursting into the office, to be greeted by Moody's customary Stunner, which his shields absorbed.

"Right here, you impertinent brat," Mad-Eye barked from his seat. "Where's the bloody fire?"

"In the Atrium, where it always is," Harry cheeked. "Speaking of fires, though, I need you to round up about 200 Aurors and have them ready to march on Gringotts at one. Battle dress."

"March on Gringotts? In battle dress?" Mad-Eye repeated. "Are you mad? You want to fight the Goblins?"

"Merlin, no," Harry replied. "It's just for show, so I can get something from them I need to kill Voldy-pants. Cresswell's giving them advance warning."

"I'm not even going to ask, Potter," Mad-Eye said. "Go on. I'll have them ready outside the Cauldron on time."

"Cheers, Moody," Harry said, walking over to the office Floo and calling the house.

"Harry?"

Neville's voice was the first thing Harry heard as his head reappeared in the fireplace. The room came into focus soon after and Harry saw Neville sitting on the sofa, staring intently at him.

"Oh good, just one of the two people I need," he said cheerfully. "Is Ron anywhere around?"

"I think he's still in training," Neville said. "You want me to fetch him?"

"Nah, not right now, it's not that important. But you can pass on the message. I need the both of you to meet me in the Leaky Cauldron in full armour at one. We're going for a walk and I want my Lieutenants with me."

"Where are we going that we need to wear full armour?" Neville asked.

"Gringotts," Harry said. "The goblins are being stubborn about helping us with something, and we need to show them we mean business."

"What's the deal?" Neville pressed.

"They have something of Voldemort's that was in Lestrange's vault, something that I need to destroy before I have a hope in Hell of killing him," Harry said, hedging what he told Neville, while shooting him a look to drop the subject. "We're not going to be doing any fighting," he said, hoping to reassure the other boy, "we just need to look impressive."

"Oh alright," Neville said, deflating. "I'll go tell Ron and we'll meet you at the Cauldron."

"Excellent," Harry said. "See you soon."

* * *

At one o'clock, two hundred and five witches and wizards dressed for battle entered Diagon Alley through the archway. They marched in a column, four abreast. At the head of the column was Harry, resplendant in his armour. Behind him were Mad-Eye Moody, Neville, Ron, and Dirk Cresswell, who looked quite nervous. Twenty rows in, a row of Aurors carried flags: one for the United Kingdom, one bearing the seal of the Ministry of Magic, the third carrying the coat of arms of the Scarlet Knights, and the fourth flying the banner of House Potter.

As they proceeded down the Alley, nervous shopkeepers hustled ordinary patrons into their shops and magically sealed them, erecting such rudimentary wards as they could. The procession ended at the foot of the Alley, at the edge of a pavilion that was in front of Gringotts Bank. Harry held up his fist to stop the march, then leaned back to receive whispered advice from Cresswell before beckoning Neville and Ron to him and unbuckling his sword from his belt. The three of them advanced towards the entrance of Gringotts, which was – just like any other day – guarded by two armoured Goblins.

Once the three armoured Wizards reached the first step of the Bank, the guards sprang from their posts and ran in through the opened Gringotts doors. As Harry, Neville and Ron reached the top step, and proceeded towards the doors themselves, the large bronze constructs were slammed in their faces. Taking his sword, still in its scabbard, Harry turned to the doors and rapped once, twice, three times on them with the hilt of his sword, returning it to his waist as the door opened to reveal a column of armoured Goblins, led by a Goblin wearing a crown.

Harry bowed at the waist, showing respect to the Goblin leader, before speaking the phrase Cresswell had whispered to him.

"Honourable Chieftain of the Goblins, I, Lord Harry of the House of Potter, acting as the designated representative of the Minister for Magic, request negotiation with your honourable self or your designated representative to resolve the dispute between our peoples," he said, bowing once more before staring at the Goblin Chieftain.

"Lord Potter," the Goblin replied in his gravelly voice, "I, Ragnok, Chieftain of the Goblins of Gringotts, accept your request to negotiate a resolution to the dispute. I will conduct the negotiations personally. Name the time and place."

"Right here, right now," Harry replied. "Or rather, in the pavilion, so we have more space and I can conjure us some seats."

"Acceptable," Ragnok replied. "Proceed."

The parties made their way back down the stairs, where Harry did conjure an oak table with seating for eight. Once Harry, Neville, Ron, Cresswell, Ragnok and three Goblin aides were seated, Harry produced a piece of parchment, cast a duplication charm, and slid copies to everyone else.

"These are our proposals," Harry said. "The sole objective of the Ministry in these negotiations is to obtain the goblet once belonging to Hufflepuff, claimed by the Smith family. The Ministry believes the theft of the item, and the desecration done to it, is one of a long list of crimes perpetrated by the terrorist Tom M. Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort." Harry shot an annoyed glance at Cresswell, who shuddered when hearing the name.

"Furthermore, while the Ministry has already exercised its claim upon the item under the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation, I am authorised to negotiate an alternative settlement with the Goblin Nation that will result in the surrender of the item in question for destruction," Harry concluded.

There was a pause while Ragnok read over Harry's hastily written out proposal, which set out an payment of 20 percent of the monetary assets of the House of LeStrange in exchange for the goblet.

"Your proposal is certainly focused on your aims, my Lord," the Goblin said. "But it does not resolve our dispute. If Tom Riddle is the man who you name as a suspect, the Goblin Nation further insists that, pursuant to the Treaty of 1827, we be permitted to capture and punish him."

"I'm afraid that will be quite impossible," Harry said.

"And just why is that?" Ragnok asked, glaring at Harry.

"Because I am the only person who can kill the individual in question, and that will only be possible once I have obtained and destroyed the portion of his soul currently housed within the Hufflepuff-Smith goblet," Harry said, bluntly.

Ragnok was not a Goblin who had come to his position without a lot of shrewd dealings being done.

"And just what makes you say that?" he asked, markedly leaving off any acknowledgment of Harry's status.

"A prophecy given in the summer of 1980, which the Department of Mysteries has determined anoints me as the only one who is capable of vanquishing Tom Riddle," Harry said. In the continued silence, he elaborated. "The reason he did not die as he should have in 1981 was because he created Horcruxes, like the goblet we are discussing today. He created six, I have destroyed four. This would make five. Once all of his soul anchors are destroyed, what remains in his body will be easily dispatched."

"So you suggest leaving the delivery of the retribution for his crimes to you, in exchange for what?" Ragnok asked.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"You propose to pay us 20 percent of the LeStrange vault's liquid assets for the goblet. It will cost extra for us to rescind our request to capture and punish Riddle," he said, baring his teeth in a terrifying Goblin grin. Harry scowled in response.

"Two hundred million Galleons isn't enough to cover the cost of both?" he asked, incredulous.

"Don't act so affronted, my Lord," Ragnok said, putting on a placating tone. "It's just business, after all. 25 percent and we can all walk away happy."

Harry regarded the Goblin with a shrewd look of his own. He knew that the goblet and Riddle were by no means worth 250,000,000 Galleons. But it was just money, really, and any amount of money was preferable to fighting dirty wars on two fronts.

"Deal," Harry said. Two quick strokes of his quill and his proposal was in its final form. Signing it, he passed it over to Ragnok, who took a quill of his own and signed it. A brief flare of magic emanated from the document, signifying that it was a binding agreement.

"Now then, the goblet," Harry said. One of the goblins removed the object from a black velvet pouch and set it upon the table. Harry summoned it to him, wincing as the approach of the object caused a tinge in his scar, confirming the presence of a bit of Voldemort within it. Drawing his sword, he plunged the tip of it deep into the cup, injecting the cursed object with basilisk venom.

With a piercing shriek, the fifth Horcrux of Tom Riddle was destroyed, with the only effect shown on the cup to be a slight warping of the metal around the insertion point of the blade. With a little work, it might even be usable again. As it was, it was destined for display in the trophy room at Hogwarts. Harry took the now-benign goblet and Summoned the black velvet pouch from the goblin who had had it, slipping it back in and ignoring the glare of the goblin.

"Excellent," Harry said. "Alright, let's go home." Standing, he Vanished the table and chairs, handing his copy of the agreement with the Goblins to Cresswell, with instructions to give it to Amos immediately upon his return to the Ministry. With a nod to Moody and a barked order, all the Ministry personnel Disapparated. The Goblins returned into Gringotts, leaving Harry, Ron and Neville alone in the pavilion.

"Didn't we learn how to Apparate as part of that info dump we got?" Harry asked. The three teens thought about it for a moment before nodding.

"Off we go then," Harry said with a smile, pivoting on his heel and Disapparating with a pop. Neville and Ron rolled their eyes at the empty space Harry had previously occupied before following suit and leaving the Alley completely empty, except for the two or three cautious shoppers who had begun to poke their noses out of shops at the disappearance of the Aurors, and the _Daily Prophet_ journalists who were running to each and every shop to try and get people's reaction so they could put it in the evening edition.

* * *

_A/N: A most unsurprising and curiously timed update, I'm sure you're all thinking. This one little chapter has been a project since Valentine's Day, and came mostly in two traunches: a big bit I did around St. Patrick's Day, and the finishing bit I did Easter Weekend. In between the last chapter and now, I've written four papers and sat six exams. Between now and 14 May, I have three more papers and two more exams to do. After that, I'll have graduated university with a BA in Journalism and moved back home while I look for a job._

_That's my long-winded way of saying there might not be an update on 10 May, or even 20 May. I should hope there will be one before 30 May, but we'll see. At least with the fifth Horcrux down, we're well set-up for a Final Battle at the end of Harry's Sixth Year. All that's left to figure out is how they discover the diadem Horcrux in the RoR at Hogwarts, then have it meet its end, have Voldy come storming in all pissy, kill him, and then throw a celebratory orgy in the Great Hall. Or not. :P_

_'Til next time, keep those reviews coming in!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	34. Chapter 34

Three weeks later saw the Knights and Auxiliaries back at Hogwarts, attending classes and continuously surprising their professors with the sudden, marked increase in their knowledge and skills in almost all aspects of magic.

Much to the Gryffindor Knights' pleasure, their first class back was Defence with Professor Greasebag Death Eater Git himself, Snape.

"This morning we will be working on the countercurse _Turgeo Maledictum_," Snape said. "The spell is a generic counter to a wide variety of low-level hexes and curses, and will reverse most damage wrought upon you by such spells, or indeed, if you are quick enough, negate the spell before it even reaches you. Potter!"

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked.

"On three, I will curse you. I want you to use the spell to either negate my spell before it reaches you, or neutralise its effects on contact. Understood?"

Harry nodded. Snape brought up his wand and aimed it at him, Harry brought his up in turn.

"One, two, three," Snape said, before sending a non-verbal curse at Harry, who waved his own wand and dispelled the curse in mid-air.

"One point to Gryffindor for successful non-verbal casting, Potter," Snape said. "And ten points from Gryffindor for showing off."

Harry glared at the Professor, muttering oaths about Snape's behaviour while the Professor smirked at him and proceeded to curse the rest of the class in turn. Everyone who had spent the holidays with Harry in Avebury managed a performance like his own, while most of the Slytherins ended up being hit with their Head of House's jinxes, and tap dancing across the room while they shrieked the countercurse trying to make it work while the Gryffindors laughed, losing them five points each for schadenfreude.

Snape's use of the German word in his point-taking inspired Harry to hex Blaise Zabini and force the Italian boy to start doing the Nazi goose-step around the room and salute with one arm while holding his finger up above his lip in imitation of a mustache with the other. The muggle-raised amongst the class broke out into giggles at the sight, while the Slytherins looked bamboozled and Snape looked fit to burst.

"Potter! Fifteen points from Gryffindor and a detention. Don't. Mention. The War," Snape said, dispelling the hex on Zabini.

"Yes Professor. Sorry Professor," Harry said, putting as innocent a face as he could muster on while the rest of the class laughed.

The rest of the class passed without any particular incident, and at the end of the lesson, Snape instructed Harry to remain behind for a moment.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, as his classmates filed out of the room.

"You will meet me in my office this evening after dinner for your detention, Potter," Snape said. "Seven o'clock. Do not be late."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. Snape dismissed him, and he scarpered out of the DADA classroom. Hermione was waiting for him in the hallway, still smiling.

"When did you get a chance to see _Fawlty Towers_?" she asked. "It was broadcast five years before we were born, and besides, I thought the Dursleys didn't allow you to watch telly?"

"Not by myself, no," Harry said. "But that doesn't mean I didn't get a chance now and then. If I finished doing the dishes early enough, I could sneak into the living room and peek at it from behind the couch without them noticing sometimes. Aunt Marge brought over the tape one time and I thought it was hilarious."

"Why Zabini?" she asked.

"He was closest, and Italian. Close enough to German," Harry replied with a shrug and a grin.

"But you got detention, Harry. You shouldn't have."

He shrugged. "Worth it."

* * *

Harry knocked on Professor Snape's office door at just as the heavy bells tolled seven. The door flew open, allowing Harry to see Snape sitting at his desk.

"Come in, Potter," he said. "Take a seat."

"Professor?" Harry asked, doing as he was bidden anyway. This was most uncharacteristic of the greasy git who had hated him from day one of his Hogwarts years. "Aren't I to be assigned some menial task to punish my misbehaviour?"

"Not tonight, Potter," Snape said. "We are going to talk."

"Talk?" Harry asked.

"Talk," Snape confirmed. "I don't like you, Potter, and I know you don't like me either. But the Headmaster, in that annoying way of his, has made it clear that the easiest way for this war to end is for us to work together."

"I think you understate the situation when you categorise our opinions of each other as mere dislike," Harry said. "But I take it from your phrasing that you have information I will want?"

"I do," Snape confirmed.

"Out with it, then," Harry said. Snape bristled at the commanding tone in Harry's voice, but bit back whatever retort had sprung forth from his brain.

"As you may know, Potter, the result of your little police actions against the Dark Lord has put a significant dent in the ranks of the Death Eaters, practically destroying the Inner Circle. I am the highest-ranking Death Eater remaining, which left the Dark Lord with a particularly displeasing choice: put greater trust in me, knowing my connections with Dumbledore and by extension, you and run the risk of my betrayal causing him greater damage, or trust the newest or most pathetic in his ranks," Snape said.

"And he has chosen you."

"He has. I have been let in on two particular of the Dark Lord's most important secrets and plans, Potter. But before I tell them to you, I require that we come to an understanding."

"How so?" Harry asked.

"What you intend to do with me," Snape said. "You are a Scarlet Knight, Potter. I am a Death Eater, any other allegiances are of no consequence to you as long as I bear the Dark Mark."

"Yes," Harry said.

"Your policy towards the Death Eaters so far has been to kill first, ask questions later," Snape said. "I am not going to beg for my life, Potter, but I would like to know if you intend to kill me, and when. I should say at the outset, though, that if you do not, the Dark Lord likely will for the betrayal I am about to perform."

Harry was silent, mulling the options. Killing people like Malfoy was easy. They were evil people who he hardly knew, aside from things they had done to hurt him and his friends. Snape...well, there was no question that Snape hated him, but he had never really hurt Harry or his friends, aside from the psychological damage that came from the constant belittling of their failures as first-year, first-time potions brewers. Snape had also tried to save Harry's life on at least one occasion. He had undoubtedly performed atrocities in the past, to receive his Dark Mark. And yet, Dumbledore trusted him. Then again, by all indications, Dumbledore had trusted Quirrell and fake Moody, and been taken in by Lockheart, so his trust couldn't automatically be taken as a sign of goodness and decency, as he seemed to give it out like candy.

"Is there a third option?" he asked, timidly, not entirely able to convince himself one way or the other then and there as to what Snape's fate should be. Snape sneered.

"Have you truly learned nothing in Potions?" he asked, a tinge of his normal snark and bitterness evident in his tone.

Harry's eyes narrowed at the veiled insult.

"You can neutralise me without killing me directly, Potter. And if you are a skilled enough liar, you could convince the Dark Lord that you have done so," he said. "From there, it is simply a matter of killing him and seeing the effects of the Dark Mark. It would buy you time to resolve the dilemma you seem to be undergoing."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"You could dose me with the Draught of Living Death," Snape said. "Under the potion, I would enter a coma until the antidote is administered, or my body is killed. Should that happen, I would, of course, die, but I would not be aware of it until I arrived in the afterlife."

"That sounds like a plan, then," Harry said. "To be honest, I'm not sure what to do with you, Professor."

"Like I said, Potter, I'm not going to beg you for my life and I don't like you. I liked your father even less, especially after the incident where that ... man ... nearly caused my death and creating a life debt between your father and I, but your mother, I would have done anything for. Between the fact that you seem to be just as much her son as his, and that damn debt, I allowed Albus to talk me into looking after you while you attend school here. I had hoped that preventing Quirrell from killing you on the Quidditch Pitch during your first year would clear the debt I owe you, but year after year as you throw yourself into dangerous situation after dangerous situation, I feel it tugging at me."

"Do you have any Draught or am I going to have to whip up another batch of it to dose you?" Harry asked.

"Another?" Snape asked, astonished that Harry believed himself capable of producing the potion.

"Believe it or not, Professor Slughorn adjudged my Draught the best in the class," Harry said, with undisguised pride in the achievement. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Be that as it may, Potter, I would feel more confident in brewing the potion myself," he said. Harry shrugged.

"Your choice," he said. "Now, what's this vital, super-secret information?"

"I will give you the obvious news first," Snape said. "Theodore Nott is a Death Eater, and he has been tasked with assassinating Professor Dumbledore and finding a way to bring other Death Eaters into the school. I have been ordered by the Dark Lord to assist him, but he has rebuffed my attempts to determine the methods by which he aims to achieve his missions."

"Leave that to me," Harry said. "Draco will be – well, I doubt he'll be glad that Nott is a Death Eater – but he has suspected so since October, so he may be glad to know that he was right. I will deal with Nott. What's the second piece of news?"

"There is a Horcrux in the School," Snape said. "Placed here by the Dark Lord himself in 1971, the last time he was here to apply for the Defence post, and curse it following Dumbledore's refusal to hire him. He hid it in the Room of Requirement, and ordered me to check on its safety. I reported back to him before your detention began that it is indeed safe."

"Oh good, that's the last one. Get that, and he's killable," Harry said. "What is it, and where?"

"The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw," Snape said. "And he placed it atop a bust approximately ten meters into the room when it is configured to be 'a room to hide something'. It is next to a stack of books placed between two stacks of trunks and very near what appears to be a broken Vanishing Cabinet."

"Very well," Harry said. "I think the Easter Hols will be an excellent time to take care of this once and for all."

"So long?" Snape asked. "Easter is still two months from now, and the actual break isn't scheduled until mid-April."

"But it's also the first opportunity we will have to draw the Dark Lord and his forces to Hogwarts without the students being present. Those not obligated to stay and fight by virtue of Oath to me or general stupidity can be given an excuse that for some reason or other that means they will have to return home for the break. With the school more or less empty, there is less risk that innocent lives will be lost unnecessarily," Harry explained.

"Will you at least deal with Nott before then?" Snape asked.

"Well, with the way my track record usually goes, he wouldn't manage to come close to succeeding until June, but if it would reassure you, I can do it as soon as I can pass word to Draco to secure Nott for interrogation," Harry said.

"If you would, please," Severus said. "I will provide you with Veritaserum, if you wish it."

"That would be very courteous of you, Professor," Harry said. "And I would appreciate it greatly." To Harry's amusement – not surprise, because Snape was a Slytherin and a Potions Master, after all – Snape reached into a desk drawer and removed a vial of the clear liquid, handing it over to Harry, who slipped it into a pocket.

"Much obliged, Professor," he said.

"You may go, Potter. If I catch you forcing your classmates to re-enact comedy routines from old Muggle television programmes again, I will not be so lenient."

"Understood, Professor. Damn, that means I'll have to cancel that prank I had scheduled for tomorrow morning to make the Creevey brothers sing the Lumberjack Song at breakfast." Snape shuddered at the image.

"Get out, Potter!" he said. Grinning, Harry obeyed.

* * *

The next morning, a non-descript barn owl swooped down to Draco Black's seat at the Slytherin table. Taking the small scroll of parchment affixed to the bird's leg, Draco unrolled it and read it, trying and failing to keep any expression off his face as he did so.

_Snake,_

_Rope is a DE, confirmed by Bat. You are to please detain at your leisure and convenience for interrogation. Inform me when you have done. Destroy this missive._

_Lion_

Without a doubt, he was intended to be "Snake". "Lion" had to be Potter, considering it was his handwriting. Draco's hackles about being randomly assigned a codename, especially one as juvenile and ill-thought as "snake" – though, he mused, Snake was infinitely better than Ferret – were immediately calmed by the first sentence. Rope was a Death Eater. Who was Rope? What did one do with rope? Well, you generally tied it around things, securing it with a knot. Nott! So, his suspecions were correct.

Bat was probably Snape, since one of the Gryffindors' favourite insults of his Head of House was "greasy dungeon bat." Draco was slightly amazed that Potter trusted him enough to do at least part of the mission to neutralise Nott, and wasn't getting one of his pet fifth-year Slytherins to make the attempt, but didn't dwell on his amazement long, shaking himself out of his musings just long enough to quickly incinerate the note and vanish the ashes, an action Draco saw Potter nod in approval of from the Gryffindor table.

"What was that?" Zabini asked.

"Nothing," Draco lied. "Secret admirer note."

"So you burned it?"

"There's only one person in this school I want as a secret admirer, and it wasn't her handwriting," Draco said. "And since nobody's run from the hall sobbing, odds are they didn't expect me to accept their advances anyway."

"If you say so," Zabini said, returning his attention to his breakfast. Draco, for his part, began plotting. He would have to concoct a scenario that would allow him to get Nott in private, as well as get the drop on him and Stun and bind him. He cast a surreptitious glance down the table, seeing his yearmate – a Death Eater, a killer – calmly reading the _Daily Prophet_ and sipping from a cup of tea. Draco noted that his one-time friend looked quite pale.

_Probably stress from whatever it is Riddle has assigned him_, he thought. Maybe he could get him by pulling him aside as a Prefect to discuss his health? No, he doubted that would work. Nott was incredibly guarded and suspicious, even for a Slytherin. He always had been, and had been doubly so now that he had his secret status as a Death Eater to conceal too.

He wondered, though, if the stress from the assignment was affecting more than just Teddy's health. If it was affecting his schoolwork too, dragging down his grades, that was something he could act on. He knew, if he had been in Ted's position, that he would have almost completely ignored school in favour of working to complete his task and gain favour with the Dark Lord. He decided to make enquiries with the Professors in Nott's classes to see if his suspicions were correct. If they were, Potter – Harry, he reminded himself yet again – would have Teddy by the weekend.

* * *

Two days later, his suspicions were confirmed. He had spoken in private to every Professor currently teaching Nott, and they all had informed him that his grades were a concern, having fallen to barely Acceptable from the mix of Exceeds Expectations and Outstanding he had previously been earning. In History, he was actually failing, as well as in Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures.

That night, Draco pulled aside Harper instructing him to tell Harry that he was making his move. The younger Slytherin nodded, pulling out a Galleon from his pocket and fiddling with it. Confused, Draco nodded and moved over to where Nott was sitting.

"Theodore, I would like to speak with you in private," he said, quiet enough so that only the other boy could hear him, but still serious enough to convey the implication that the request was not a request. Nott looked up from a book that looked to be on Ancient Runes.

"What is it, blood-traitor?" Nott asked, quiet venom in his reply.

"It's a private matter," Draco said, "one best discussed in a private setting. Would you prefer your room, or mine?"

"Mine," Nott said, after a moment's hesitation while he looked at Draco with narrowed eyes, probably searching for hints of duplicity or a threat. Finding none, he rose and led Draco into his private room, shutting the door behind him and locking it with a charm before wheeling on the blond and spitting out a curse.

Draco was immediately grateful for Potter's shield wristbands, as they sprang to life to deflect the curse before he even realised he was under attack. He raised his own wand and sent off a Stunner at an already stunned Nott, who clearly expected Draco to be writhing in agony on the floor.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Draco asked as Nott shielded from Draco's stunner.

"It's a good way to treat an enemy," Nott replied. "I know you're working for Potter, Draco. I won't go down without a fight."

"Well, if you want a fight, I'll give you one," Draco said. "But you're going down, and I'm going to be right there when Potter finds out what you've been up to."

"I'll die before I tell you blood-traitors anything." Curses were flying fast and furious between the two Slytherins, and Draco idly wondered if Nott had a full set of privacy charms on his room, or if the entirety of Slytherin House could hear their curse match, and had gathered outside.

He cursed, counter-cursed, hexed, and counter-hexed, trading spells with a boy he had once considered his best friend for half an hour before his suspicions were once again proved correct.

Teddy had tired greatly over the last five minutes, and drew himself up for what Draco figured was sure to be his last-ditch offensive.

He was right.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he shouted, forcing Draco's eyes to widen before falling flat and allowing the spell to sail over his head and slam into the bed, catching it on fire. In that instant, the walls around Nott's door were demolished by Reductor Curses, admitting Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, and Harry Potter into the debris-strewn room. Dumbledore and Potter each sent Stunners and Binding charms at Nott, who was too exhausted to shield against both and was captured, while Snape worked to put out the fire. While they did that, Draco was able to see out into the hallway, where there were a large number of Slytherins gathered, horror written across some of their faces, and relief across others who were realising that he had not been killed.

"Return to your domitories," Snape ordered, glaring at the pack of students. "Do not discuss this with anyone, or you will be in detention until the end of the year." Slowly, the large pack dispersed, and Potter and Dumbledore exited the ruined room, levitating a Stunned Nott between them.

"Draco, accompany us," Potter said. Draco nodded and fell into step with Snape, who waved his wand to restore the destroyed wall as the small party made their way from the Slytherin dormitories.

* * *

_A/N: Only one month's wait this time! I hope the action in this one is worth the wait. Also, I have graduated from college, finally! Turns out, I made Chancellor's List (which is the honor roll for the highest academic achievers) in my final semester, which I certainly did not expect. I do regret that graduating means I'll miss out on the celebratory dinner in the fall :( But I can't always get what I want. Anywho, I should be able to do a lot more writing while I'm searching for a job, and the revelations in this chapter mean that we'll be coming to the end all the quicker._

_I'm very happy to note that this story has become my second with 200 reviews, especially since it's already my longest (both in number of chapters as well as the word count, my most alerted and favourited, and by at least two orders of magnitude my most C2ed story (though that's not really any sort of accurate measure, is it?) My record is 273, and I would be absolutely chuffed to bits if you fine people were to break it._

_To the home stretch! Allons-y!_

_-Phoenix II, 30 May 2011  
_


	35. Chapter 35

Severus Snape paced back and forth in the back of the dungeon room. In front of him, Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore were securing the limp form of Theodore Nott to a chair that had been bolted to the floor. The ropes which had originally tied him up had been replaced by heavy chains.

Draco was leaning against the wall in the corner, his eyes were on the action around Nott but Severus could tell from the boy's posture and carefully sculpted expression of disinterest told him that the young man was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. Severus could hardly blame him: having a Killing Curse shot at you wasn't going to yield calm unless it hit true.

"The DictaQuill and parchment are ready, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded and withdrew the phial of Veritaserum Severus had given him three days earlier. Spelling Nott's mouth open, he plopped a splash of the potion in and waited while it was absorbed by the Slytherin's tongue. Not, Snape noted, the customary measured three drops, which typically resulted in 30 minutes to an hour's worth of enforced truth-telling. The measure administered by Potter would easily last for at least four hours.

"Professor Snape, Draco, if you would kindly disillusion yourselves," Harry said, wand out and aimed at Nott. He received two nods and two taps of two wands to the tops of two heads later, Severus and Draco faded from view. "Professor Dumbledore, if you would activate the DictaQuill?" The Headmaster nodded and flicked his own wand.

"This is the interrogation of Theodore Nott, captured in the attempt of casting a Killing Curse. The location is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Interrogators: Lord Sir Harry James Potter, Special Deputy Minister for Magic for Security and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. This interrogation is being recorded via DictaQuill, monitored by Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. He watched the quill move across the parchment, and the Headmaster nodded that the words had been recorded. Harry pointed his wand at their unconscious prisoner.

"Ennervate," Harry murmured. Nott awoke with a start, glazed-over eyes sluggishly looking around the room before focusing on Potter.

"What is your name?" Harry asked, starting the interrogation off simply.

"Theodore Augustus Nott, Scion of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Nott." Nott replied in the monotone associated with Veritaserum influence.

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"When were you Marked?"

"I have not been Marked."

Everyone in the room looked around in surprise.

"You are a Death Eater, yet you do not bear the Dark Mark?"

"That is correct."

"How is this possible?" Harry asked.

"My grandfather, the Lord Nott, brought me before the Dark Lord after the blood-traitor Draco was disowned by his father. I was welcomed into his ranks, and given the mission to infiltrate Hogwarts, assassinate the Headmaster and find a way to allow the Dark Lord's forces into the school. The Dark Lord recognized that on a mission requiring stealth and cunning, my bearing the Mark was an unnecessary operational risk," Nott said. "He promised me that when I succeed in the mission, I will be rewarded with the Mark and a place at his right hand."

Harry frowned, so far, the information Nott had given gelled with what Snape had told him two evenings previously.

"You were ordered to assassinate the Headmaster?"

"Yes."

"Was that all?"

"No."

"What else were you to do?"

"Find a way to let the Death Eaters into the castle."

"Why haven't you made any moves to do so?"

"I have," Nott answered.

"What have you done?"

"I brought with me to Hogwarts a cursed necklace and several poisons I intended to attempt to foister onto the Headmaster, but they were confiscated by Aurors when we first arrived at Hogwarts in September. Since then, I have tried to acquire new poisons or brew my own, but those endeavours have been in vain. The suppliers never return my owls, and despite my not inconsiderate talent in Potions, I cannot brew adequate poisons."

"What have you done to try and bring Death Eaters into the school?"

"At first I checked the secret passageways I'd heard of, but they were all useless. Then I remembered the Vanishing Cabinet Montague was pushed into last year. I found it in a room on the seventh floor, broken but serviceable. My grandfather secured the second of the pair from Borgin and Burke's in Knockturn Alley in November, and since then I have been working to repair the one here so that people can travel between them."

"That is why your grades have been so abysmal this term?"

"Yes. There is no point to school compared to the honour of serving the Dark Lord and completing my mission."

"How close are you to repairing the cabinet?" Harry asked.

"Not very. If I work hard, and figure out the runic clusters inhibiting my progress, I should have it working by June."

"And how close are you to assassinating the Headmaster?"

"After my last failure to brew an adequately potent poison, I decided the best way to kill him would be to wait until the Death Eater force was inside Hogwarts, distracting him to the point where I could hit him with a Killing Curse."

Harry was quiet for a moment, but Draco moved up to whisper in his ear.

"What will be the consequence if you fail?"

"The Dark Lord will kill my family."

"Are your entire family Death Eaters?"

"My grandfather is, and bears the Mark. My mother and baby sister are not, and do not."

"Did you attempt to murder Draco Black?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I knew what he wanted, and I could not allow myself to be captured."

"Then why try to kill him?"

"He would be dead and Potter would be disgraced." There was an awkward pause before Harry moved on to the next question.

"Have you murdered before?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"A muggle family in Stoke-on-Trent, in July," Nott said.

"How many?"

"Three. A man, his wife and their daughter. She was maybe thirteen years old."

"The Killing Curse on the father, the Entrail-Expelling Curse on the mother, and I used a knife to slit the throat of the daughter after I finished fucking her under the Imperius," Nott answered, in the now-disturbing monotone. Shivering unconsciously as Nott recounted his crimes, Harry not-at-all-subtly changed the topic.

"How do you communicate with the Dark Lord if you are not Marked?" Harry asked.

"The Dark Lord communicates with me via owl post," Nott replied. "He uses different owls and his handwriting is different each time. I believe he uses the Imperius Curse on Muggles and forces them to write the letters."

"Where is the Dark Lord's base?"

"I do not know," Nott said.

"How many Death Eaters remain?"

"I do not know."

"Are you the only Death Eater amongst the student population?"

"I do not know."

"Have you ever used the Imperius Curse?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever used the Cruciatus Curse?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the consequences of those curses?"

"Yes."

"Why do you serve the Dark Lord?"

"Because the alternative is serving Potter and Dumbledore and consigning the wizarding world to becoming just one more oddity in the Muggle World."

"What do you mean?"

"The Dark Lord has explained to us that inviting the mudbloods in and accomodating their Muggle heritage, Dumbledore and the other idiots are trying to disestablish the Statute of Secrecy and expose us all to the Muggles, and hope that they don't revert to their base instincts and burn us all."

"Then why does he kill Purebloods?"

"They agree with Dumbledore," Nott said. "They are no better than the mudbloods and muggles they mollycoddle, despite the loss of the Family Magic."

"And you are aware that the Dark Lord is a half-blood himself?"

"It does not matter. He has rejected his filthy muggle heritage, and is a powerful wizard in his own right."

Now completely out of questions, Harry stunned him again.

"Well, that's that," Harry said. "Now what do we do with him? I say we kill him."

"He is not Marked," Snape pointed out, removing the disillusionment charm he had placed on himself. Draco did likewise. Dumbledore frowned in disapproval.

"He is an admitted Death Eater, and a confessed murderer," Harry countered. "All I have to do is nick him with my sword and he'll be dead in five minutes tops. Besides, we can't exactly just let him out wandering around again, given how many people heard him try to kill Draco."

"While that is true, Harry, that doesn't require the immediate leap to murder," Dumbledore said. Harry let out an exasperated huff before looking up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath and looking at Dumbledore to answer.

"We've had this discussion before, Professor. Executing guilty murderers is not itself murder. Killing enemy soldiers is not murder. Theodore Nott is a guilty murderer. He is an enemy soldier. I say all the time, I know, that this is not a war, but I'm kidding myself and everybody else just to keep up the illusion that the Ministry isn't a malfunctioning pile of useless shit when it comes to keeping the peace," Harry said. "For Merlin's sake, you heard it from his own bloody mouth, he's been trying to kill you all year! Of all people, you should at least think maybe this one deserves killing!"

"He is just a boy," Dumbledore said.

"Obi-Wan can no longer help him," Harry retorted. "Emperor Palpatine didn't buy it, and neither do I." Dumbledore looked confused at Harry's _Star Wars_ reference, but Harry ignored him. "We have admissions from him that tie him to multiple crimes, sufficient to secure a conviction on all of them. He could be convicted within an hour by any court in this country, wizard or muggle, for Treason against the Crown, and murder, not to mention the membership in a proscribed organisation, two counts of attempted murder, the rape of that little girl and Merlin knows what else."

"While he has done dispicable things, and confessed to them, you don't have the right or the power to kill him here and be done with it," Dumbledore chastised him. "Not as the Lord Potter, not as the Knight Commander of the Scarlet Knights, not as the Special Deputy Minister for Magic for Security, and not even as a member of Her Majesty's Privy Council. Killing him here and now would be murder, for you would not have official sanction for it in any of your posts. He is unarmed. You would dishonour your House, both familial and Gryffindor, as well as risk a blood feud with the House of Nott for killing their Scion in such a fashion."

"The Headmaster speaks the truth, Harry," Draco said from the back of the room, speaking quietly but in such a fashion as to stop Harry's retorts dead before they could be voiced. "You should listen to his council unless you want to join Nott in the Pandorica. Just call the Aurors, so they can haul this worthless scum away and take all our statements."

Harry relented, seeing nobody was on his side in the room. "Fine. But, Professor Dumbledore, you're going to get a rotating Auror guard until the end of the year, just in case there's another student Death Eater Mr. Riddle can pass Nott's assignments on to. I will brook no arguments on this."

Dumbledore simply smiled and allowed Harry to exit the room with the intention of heading for the Auror command post near the entrance hall, only to find Auror Captain Frederick King standing outside the door with three of his detachment standing behind him.

"Auror King, what a pleasant surprise," he said. "I don't suppose I need to guess what you're after?"

"No, sir," King replied. "A Slytherin student came to our CP quite distressed with a rather interesting story about a duel ending with a Killing Curse, and Mr. Nott back there being hauled off in ropes by yourself and Professor Dumbledore."

"I told the brats to stay in their dormitories," Snape snarled. The Aurors smirked.

"Sorry, Professor, attempted murder trumps your instructions," King replied. "I see you've got the scumbag trussed up already."

"Yup, and interrogated. Death Eater. The Headmaster can give you a copy of our interrogation, so you can read over it and see if we missed any pertinant questions," Harry said, shooting a glance at Professor Dumbledore, who picked up on it and duplicated the parchment record of the interrogation.

"Smith, Young, secure the suspect," King ordered. Two of the Aurors in the back marched into the room and yanked Nott's unconscious body from the chair, after vanishing the heavy chains. They were replaced with magic-supressing manacles affixed to his wrists and ankles.

"Suspect secured, sir," one of them said. King nodded, and the Aurors headed off, back – Harry presumed – to their command post, and from there they would Floo to the Ministry so Nott could be brought before a judge and arraigned while the Warden of the Pandorica was summoned to the Ministry to take him into custody for transport to the prison.

"And now, statements, gentlemen," King said, both he and his partner producing rolls of parchment and a DictaQuill, just as Professor Dumbledore had. King stood before Harry, while his partner went immediately to Draco, who had been the one assailed by Nott, after all.

"Sir, I'd like to just ask you a few questions about this evening," King said.

"Go ahead," Harry said.

"What prompted this evening's activities, if you know?"

"Earlier this week, I received some information identifying Theodore Nott as a Death Eater, with a mission to assassinate the Headmaster. Naturally, I decided it was prudent to remove him from the student population."

"Who gave you this information?"

"That's confidential, Auror."

"Yes sir. Why did you not alert the Auror Corps immediately with the information about Mr. Nott?"

"Your men's involvement would be too conspicuous," Harry said. "Nott would not be under any illusion that you were not there to arrest him, and would have provided heavy resistance and pose a danger to the students. By assigning Draco, a Prefect, to apprehending him, I anticipated correctly that he would be able to make his play somewhere with relative privacy and away from students."

"So, tell me what happened tonight," King prompted.

"Well, for me the events started when I received a message from one of my Slytherin contacts informing me that Draco was making his move on Nott. I made my way to the Slytherin common room, where the same contact admitted me, informing me that the House was down the boys' dormitory corridor listening to a duel between Nott and Draco. I instructed him to summon Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore, and made my way down the hallway. Shortly thereafter, the two Professors arrived and we discussed when would be the appropriate time to intervene in the duel," Harry explained. "I advocated for immediately, but as it turned out, Nott had heavily warded his door and we would be unable to disable the wards without a great deal of time and effort. At that point, we decided we would have to go through the wall, which is when Nott settled the issue of timing for us by casting the Killing Curse. We blasted through the wall and found him magically exhausted, with his bed on fire and Draco on the floor, alive but shaken. We stunned and bound Nott, and brought him here, and interrogated him."

"Who was your contact in Slytherin?"

"Harper. Fifth-year. He's one of my Knights," Harry explained. "I would have used him instead of Draco, but he's the wrong year and not a Prefect."

"I see," King said. "Alright then, I'm going to talk to the Headmaster."

"I'll wait here," Harry said. "I need to talk to you about something later this week."

"Alright," King said, walking over to Dumbledore as his partner finished up with Draco and headed over to talk to Snape. To his surprise, Draco walked over to him.

"I hate being right," he said.

"About Nott?" Harry asked. Draco nodded.

"We used to be best friends," he said. "Our grandfathers were close, and while Lucius didn't have any respect for Theo's father, he was the only other pureblood boy my age that wasn't a blood-traitor or a blithering idiot."

"How close were you, though?" Harry asked.

"Close enough to be distressed by you wanting to kill him in front of me," Draco said. "Merlin, Potter, do you ever _think_?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But it wasn't like I was going to lop his head off or run him through," he explained. "I was just gonna nick him and let the basilisk venom do the rest."

"That's hardly better!" Draco exclaimed. "It doesn't change the fact that you were going to kill my friend in front of me, Potter, and that's a damn terrifying thought, even if he did just try to kill me."

"Well, he's going to get his sooner or later," Harry protested.

"But I won't have to be there for it!" Draco shot back. "When is all this mess going to be over, anyway?"

"Easter Hols," Harry said. "I know where the last Horcrux is, and I'm going to destroy it after the train leaves from Hogsmeade. The Knights will stay behind, and I'll work out with King and Moody the number of DMLE personnel I'll have on hand, but probably as many as I can get a hold of, because I'm going to insist Tommy-boy bring his entire force to bear, so we can destroy them all in one go and not have to go through the hassle of years or decades of mop-up action."

"You're going to have it _here_?" Draco asked, incredulous.

"Yes," Harry said. "This is the most practical place to have a giant magical battle, since it's completely ignored by the Muggles and there's little-to-no chance of it spilling into a populated Muggle area."

"Easter break?"

"Yes."

"That's earlier than you normally get up to your end-of-term shenanigans," Draco observed.

"Yeah, but the weather will be better for a cataclysmic confrontation in April," Harry said. "You know, rain, lightning, the whole dramatic bit."

"You sound incredibly like Lockhart right now, Potter," Draco remarked.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

_A/N: OMGWTF AN ON-TIME UPDATE AM I HALLUCINATING! No sir (ma'am), you are not. It is summer, and I have literally nothing else to do :D _

_A few notes, since I realised 9/10 of the way through this chapter, after a trip to Theodore's HP Wiki page, that JKR considers the elderly Nott we meet in GoF and OoTP to be Teddy's father. This is obviously a thing for her, since Harry's grandparents were supposed to be incredibly old as well when they had James. So, since I find oldpeople!sex to be mentally icky, and I doubt that any virility aid ever made, magical or muggle, will help an 80-year-old man, Wizard or no, knock up a woman, the old Nott is Teddy's grandfather as far as this story is concerned._

_Also, the comments about Harry's intentions by Dumbledore and Draco might be important, if not now than maybe in the epilogue._

_I'm thinking we'll have the pre-battle next chapter, the battle in ch. 37 (maybe spillover into 2 chapters), and then an aftermath chapter and an epilogue. So, if all goes well, we'll be done by the end of July, and I can get started on/finish some of my myriad other HP ideas.  
_

_In personal news, I have been called for an interview for an honest-to-God job! Which may make the last bit of that previous paragraph impossible. Then again, it's not supposed to be a particularly _hard_ job, so we'll see._

_Until next time, everybody!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	36. Chapter 36

The blade sliced clean through the ancient diadem, and Harry's ears were assaulted once again by the anguished scream that was indicative of a dying Horcrux.

"It's done," he said with a nod, sheathing the sword and leaving the Room of Requirement, heading for his next destination.

* * *

"It is time, then?" Severus Snape asked, as Harry walked into his office, dragging along a familiar-looking trunk behind him. "What are you doing with Moody's trunk?"

"Hiding you," Harry said, taking the Auror's keyring and unlocking the seventh lock, opening the empy compartment with a ladder leading down. "No sense in taking pointless chances and leaving you out in the open where any lucky Death Eater could wander by and hit you with a Killing Curse when I still haven't made up my mind on what to do with you, after all. So you'll go down in here, drink your Draught, and I'll get you out when it's done."

"If you insist," Snape said, taking a phial containing an ink-black potion from a rack on the wall and walking over to the trunk, climbing down the ladder to the bottom. "Good luck, Potter," Snape said, lying down on the floor of the trunk and downing the potion.

"Good luck, Professor," Harry said, shutting the trunk and placing it in an out-of-the-way corner of the man's office.

* * *

"So we can get the suits of armour to defend the secret passageways," Harry said. He, Moody, Kingsley, King, the other company leaders and Professor Dumbledore were gathered around a table on which was spread out the Marauder's Map. Harry was indicating his plans for the defence of Hogwarts from Voldemort's forces. "We're not sure if any Death Eaters remain in the castle to carry out Nott's mission, so I want two Auror squads on the seventh floor, down the two access corridors to the Room of Requirement, just in case they've gotten that Vanishing Cabinet working."

The Aurors nodded.

"What do we know about the composition of Voldemort's forces?" Harry asked.

"All our available information suggests he's got about 6 giants, 12 or so trolls, the remnants of Greyback's werewolf pack, numbering at best 20 werewolves, a few foreign Vampires, plus 100 or so Dementors and 29 confirmed Death Eaters that he's called to his base full-time. Counting sympathisers and sleepers that we don't know about, he might have up to 100 dark wizards he can call on domestically, and any number of foreigners," Moody said. "The numbers on the creatures he's got on hand are estimates from the DRCMC, which means they Apparated in, looked around for five seconds, Apparated away and guessed how many weren't there that should have been."

"Apart from the Dementors, which we do have good counts of," Kingsley said. "Speaking of, how are we supposed to fight them off? If they have a deal with Riddle that gives them carte blanche to treat his enemies as an all-you-can-eat buffet, the Patronus will only do so much to repel them, and there's no way we can keep casting Patronuses and fight off the rest of them at the same time."

"Good point," Harry said, surprisingly cheerful at being asked this question, which vexed everyone else in the room. "We know Dementors hate the happy thoughts that are contained within Patronuses, and while we could have 100 of the Aurors casting them to ward off the Dementors, I'd prefer a more...fun approach."

"Fun?" King asked, deadpan.

"Yup," Harry said. He pulled out his wand and flicked it at the corner of the room, lifting a spell to reveal a contraption that was distinctly Muggle in origin.

"What the hell is that?" Auror Schmidt asked.

"Flamethrower," Harry said. "Does exactly what it says on the tin, more or less. Like a very high-powered Incendio."

"Where did you get that?" Dumbledore asked.

"Her Majesty's Government," Harry said. "They nicked a bunch of them off the IRA during a raid, and don't really have a use for them, so I asked nicely and they handed them over."

"And what do you want us to do with them?" King asked.

"Implement my strategy against the Dementors," Harry said, flatly.

"Which is?"

"Kill it with fire!" Harry exclaimed. "Think about it. In addition to making you miserable, what's one effect of a Dementor?"

"Cold," Tonks supplied. Harry nodded.

"Exactly. And what's the best way to combat cold?"

"Heat," Moody grunted.

"Exactly! So, last question, what's a really good heat source?"

"Fire," Dumbledore admitted. "But how can that possibly work, Harry? The Dementors are not believed to be affected by anything other than the Patronus."

"Well, has anybody ever been dumb enough to even think about lighting one on fire?" Harry asked. "It'll work. At worst, it'll burn their cloaks off and they'll turn tail and run from embarrassment of being naked in public." That last comment brought a chuckle from all involved.

"But who's going to operate them? And how many are there?" Kingsley asked.

"I've got a couple dozen," Harry said. "How many Aurors do we have with some experience in the Muggle world?"

"More than a couple dozen," Moody said. "You want them?"

"Yeah. It's mostly just point and pull the trigger, but why waste time having to explain it?" Harry asked. "And once the Dementors have been driven off or killed or whatever, we can use what fuel is left in them against the other creatures."

"And if the fuel in them runs out first?"

"Incendio," Harry said, simply. The rest of the room remained silent for a few moments, contemplating Harry's strategy before simply nodding in acceptance.

"Now, the Giants," Harry said. "What's the best way to take them down?"

"That'll be difficult," Kingsley admitted. "I think you have some first-hand knowledge of how magic-resistant Giant hide is. It's like trying to stun a boulder."

"OK, yeah," Harry said. "Who's got an idea?"

"Well, it would take about 300 stunners to put down just one Giant, and the effect wouldn't last long," Moody said. "On the other hand, if we kill them or greivously wound them, we risk seriously pissing the lot of them – even the ones that aren't fighting for Riddle – off, and putting them on the warpath."

"Hm," Harry said. "How about we just get rid of them?"

"What do you mean?" Kingsley asked.

"Send them home," Harry said. "Well, the giants, at least. I don't give a toss about the trolls."

"Portkey?" Dumbledore asked, mostly rhetorically. He took on a contemplative look. "The most difficult part would be in getting the magic to envelop the giant and transport it away. It could not be done with a conventional item like a coin or an old boot, because they simply can't hold enough magic to envelop a giant and whisk it away. It would need to be something that could completely encircle the giant."

"Like a long rope?" Harry suggested.

"Yes, that may well work," Dumbledore said. "If you managed to wrap it around the giant like a belt, and had a powerful enough sorcerer put the magic into the Portkey, it should work."

"We'll do that, then," Harry said. "Probably should make ten, just to be on the safe side." Dumbledore nodded, looking resigned and weary.

"Alright, trolls we can take out with concentrated spell-fire. They don't have anything close to the magic-resistance of giants. He probably expects us to do as we're going to, which is hole up inside the castle and force him to come to us. So he'll have the trolls and the giants come in first to make an entrance by bashing down the doors or knocking holes in the wall, whichever is most convinient for him."

"But do you think he's going to just walk up the main path?" Gawain Robards asked.

"No, of course not," Harry said. "But the majority of his forces will. He'll send a few marauding squads via the viaduct bridge and across the Lake, but they won't amount to much. Auror squads, and my Knights, at each of those entry points should be able to handle them, because they won't be able to bring along giants or trolls, especially along the viaduct."

"And since the rear of the school is up against a solid cliff, there's not much he can do in the way of access that way, so the front is going to have to be the main attack point," King concluded. "Makes enough sense. So we concentrate our forces so that they can cover the front with spells."

"A company's worth, at least. Our reserves will be in the Great Hall," Harry said.

"Very well," King said. "Back to the giants, milord. How are we going to get the Portkeys onto them?"

"Disillusioned fliers," Harry suggested. "Cast a sticking charm to the Portkeys, so they'll stick to the giant while it's wrapped around them, get it around and activate it."

"That's pretty risky," Tonks cautioned.

"Well the alternative is leaving Aurors on brooms out there trying to coordinate their wrap-around and tie a knot while Death Eaters try to kill them," Moody replied. "Or trying to find a way to enchant the ropes to do it all themselves."

"Alright then," Tonks conceded. "They could probably do with a distraction, though."

"If I know Riddle, he'll be sending the Dementors as his vanguard. Watching those fuckers get lit up should provide plenty of distraction," Harry said with a grin. "Now, is there anything else?"

The rest of the group shook their heads 'no'. They wanted the plan to be simple, which would allow them to be flexible in the defence of Hogwarts.

"Alright then. I've got a letter to write," Harry said, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

* * *

The next morning, an owl delivered a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ to the house of "Harold Metis".

**POTTER CHALLENGES TOM RIDDLE**

_In a letter to this publication received last night, Special Deputy Minister for Magic for Security Lord Sir Harry James Potter challenged noted, feared and wanted terrorist Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort to a "final reckoning."_

"_Last night I destroyed the last of his Horcruxes," Potter announced in the letter. "I'd like to get this over with for good, so I, as well as the rest of magical Britain, can get on with our lives without this evil man and the idiots who follow him among us, threatening us, our Government, our way of life and all we hold dear."_

_A Horcrux, for our readers who are not depraved Dark sociopaths, is a Dark object that tethers its creator's soul to this plane of existence, and can only be created by pre-meditated, cold-blooded murder. Potter's implication that Tom Riddle had more than one such object, just goes to show the danger posed by this man._

_Potter went on to directly challenge the Dark Lord, using the Language of the Old Ways._

"_I, Harry James, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, do hereby challenge Thomas Marvolo, Bastard of the Degenerate and Disgraced House of Gaunt, to a Duel to the Death at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he said._

_Potter's ambition of eradicating the threat of Riddle and the Death Eaters was made clear in the next paragraph._

"_I call on him to bring his Marked slaves, and every creature that has sworn loyalty to him, along with him. The people of magical Britain deserve no less than the complete and total eradication of this threat._

"_Aside from that, he'll need every idiot who serves him and more to get to me. After all, I am in Hogwarts, the best defended building in this country. Myself, and the rest of the castle's defenders, are more than capable of dealing with one terrorist, no matter how magically powerful he believes himself to be," Potter announced._

"_Also, I have a few things to say to Tommy directly. I have taken care of Theodore Nott and Severus Snape, and stopped all your plots within this castle. Your attempts to penetrate Hogwarts' wards and assassinate her Headmaster have been foiled. You are going down, Tom, and your 'army' will go with you. I have just one last thing to say. Come at me, Tom!"_

_For the full text of Lord Potter's letter, see Page 2_

_For a history of Potter's actions against Riddle, see page 3_

_For a biography of Riddle, see page 4_

The subject of the challenge was incensed. Potter's challenge, using the Old Terms, in public, could not be refused without him losing all his support amongst the Purebloods he sought to rule. No, he would have to go. He would have to fight Potter, again.

The news about his Horcruxes disturbed him greatly. He knew, of course, that Potter and the old man had been systematically destroying them over the last year. How they'd found them was beyond him; he was sure he'd hidden them very well. The loss of the diary was thanks to Lucius' idiocy and incompetence, Spirits damn the man. From there, he could only hypothesise that Dumbledore had sussed out the nature of the diary and done some of his trademark snooping around, which subsequently revealed the numbers, objects, and locations of his soul pieces. From there, he'd decided the prophecy meant Potter had to destroy the lot of them, and had started dragging the boy across the country to do so. Snape must have told, but Potter had killed him anyway; no more than the traitorous man deserved, but it had cost him dearly.

Not for the first time, the "man" formerly known as Tom Riddle wondered if he had been wise to attack young Harry Potter that Halloween night, especially without the full prophecy. In 1981, he had been within a few operations of completing his coup against the Ministry. The Light was reeling as his forces killed blood-traitor family after blood-traitor family, mudbloods were fleeing the wizarding world in droves, and nobody trusted anybody else. Yet despite the efforts of all his agents within the Ministry, even in the Department of Mysteries, he had not been able to obtain a copy of the full Prophecy.

Despite having split his soul into seven pieces, Voldemort was not a fool. He had been Sorted into Slytherin, after all. Potter had hundreds of Aurors at his disposal, on top of all the unknown defences of Hogwarts. He had 50 Dark wizards, a few giants, a few trolls, and the Dementors. Potter had the decided schematic advantage, though the Dementors might manage to steal a few souls, it would hardly make a difference.

And now the Prophecy was coming true. Potter had issued him a challenge for a Duel to the Death, which would, if Voldemort looked at the results of all their past confrontations honestly, end with him "vanquished" again, this time for good. Would it have still done so had he left Potter alone? Would the Longbottom brat have been a better choice to kill? Or would it not have mattered which child he chose?

"My Lord?" A Death Eater asked tentatively, walking into his throne room at the head of a column of 12 of her fellows.

"What is it?" he snapped. Even in this reflective mood, he couldn't allow his subordinates to do anything but fear him.

"Are we going to answer Potter?" she asked.

"Of course," Voldemort said. "We will all go and answer that jumped-up half-blood's insolent challenge, and crush him."

"A-all of us, milord?" Peter Pettigrew, the worthless rat, stammered, clearly terrified of going within 100 miles of Potter.

"Yes, Wormtail, all of us." Voldemort's voice was silky smooth and quite amused, in a cathartic way. "If Potter wants a final battle, we shall oblige him."

"But, milord, wouldn't it be wise for some of us to remain, just in case?" a new recruit asked. Voldemort drew his wand and swiftly put the man under the Cruciatus Curse for thirty seconds.

"Final battle means final, you insolent twat," he snapped. "Even if you stay behind and the main force is defeated, Potter and his merry band of ponces will hunt you down like a wounded fox and lop your head off in the night."

The Death Eater didn't answer, still whimpering as he was from his exposure to the torture curse.

"Now, gather all our forces and prepare to leave for Scotland," Voldemort said. "I will devise our attack plan while you do so."

Bowing, despite their obvious reservations, the Death Eaters left the throne room.

* * *

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the last of the departing students was filing through the Entrance Hall. While most of the students had been accepting of the need to depart before Voldemort arrived, more than a few of the Slytherins had had to be forcibly removed, for various reasons.

Draco Black was one of them.

"Harry, I _want_ to stay," he was protesting, for the thirteenth time since said Harry had shown up to drag him and his trunk from his dormitory.

"No," Harry said, for the thirteenth time. "Absolutely not."

"I've got those shield things, I know combat spells, I'm nearly 17, what more do you want!" Draco exclaimed.

"I promised your mother I'd send you home," Harry said. "I don't doubt that you'd be of great help, but you're not a Knight, Auror, or a teacher, and so you have to go home. Besides, if by some miracle Tommy gets me, you're the last male Black left alive, so you have to keep the Family alive."

Draco fumed until Harry finally got him loaded into a carriage with a group of Hufflepuff third years; the last carriage to leave. The thestrals trotted off as soon as Harry shut and locked the door, and soon caught up with the trail of other carriages streaming towards Hogsmeade Station, where the Hogwarts Express waited to take them all to London. With luck, they would be well clear of the area before Voldemort showed up.

A few minutes later, the last carriage passed through the gates of Hogwarts, which were shut, and would remain shut until the train was half an hour out. At that point, they would be re-opened to give Voldemort a clear advance without him having to think it necessary to breach the ancient wards protecting the school.

* * *

As the ancient bells of the Hogwarts clock tower chimed 5 o'clock, the quiet that had permeated the valley that afternoon was sundered by multiple Apparition cracks. Voldemort, 50 Death Eaters and their allies, 13 human-form werewolves, 16 trolls, 5 giants and 100 Dementors arrived a quarter-mile from the gates of Hogwarts.

"Form up!" Voldemort ordered. As a group, the Dementors swarmed to the head of the small column. The Giants followed them, then the trolls, werewolves and wizards last. Voldemort would lead from the rear, and would be the absolute last of his army to start fighting.

A cold breeze accompanied the Dementors, and despite the shivers, Voldemort was grinning as he ordered his forces forward.

* * *

Atop the clock tower, Harry Potter's scarlet cape fluttered behind him in the wind. He could see the mass of wizards and creatures that had just arrived, and he could feel the sudden chill that accompanied the Dementors.

"Are the fire teams ready?" he asked Kingsley, who pointed out two groups of Muggleborn Aurors atop the two towers flanking the Entrance Hall, each gripping their flamethrowers anxiously.

"And we've got people ready to cast Patronuses to herd them into the kill zones?"

"Yes, milord," Kingsley said. Harry smiled, putting on his helm.

"Let's get ready to rumble."

* * *

_A/N: This whole setup reminds me of ch. 19, which is the last time we saw a pre-battle setup. Except this one is for all the Tostitos. A bunch of short scenes that feels disjointed, but flows together alright and stitches together a bunch of different (important) plot points and advance the story along._

_Also, as I was writing this chapter, particularly the Voldemort and Death Eater bits, I realised I'd completely forgotten to put Wormtail in here. So I've done so, and he'll get his next chapter. I can't believe none of you caught that before now and called me out on that!_

_The thing about Voldy's Daily Prophet subscription name was me playing around with anagrams.  
_

_The job hunt continues. I had an interview last week, which involved me in a car for seven hours and a two hour interrogation. They said they're looking to make a hire that will start in early July, so I hope to hear one way or the other soon._

_Barring me actually getting the job and having to move, the Final Battle (I still haven't decided if I want to do one or two parts), will come up Thursday, 30 June 2011._

_Until then,_

_Phoenix II  
_


	37. Chapter 37

The Dementor floated, or flew, or did whatever it is Dementors do to get around, towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, along with 99 of his compatriots. This particular Dementor (for ease of identification, let's call him Bob from here on out) was aiming himself towards a particularly delicious-smelling (smelling being the easiest way to describe the way a Dementor senses fear, despite fear being an emotion and not a stench, and Dementors not having noses with which to smell conventional odours anyway) group of Humans on the right-hand tower above the main entrance to Hogwarts Castle. There were a half-dozen Wizards, nervous and hesitant. They appeared to Bob to be Aurors from the Ministry of Magic, his former employers (well, captors. Bob certainly was never paid, and Dementors did not consider themselves to be owned by Wizards), though he couldn't see the colours of their robes to be sure, because Bob, like all Dementors, was blind. They had to be Aurors, though, because there were too many of them, and they were too strong, for them to be the castles normal inhabitants.

Curiously for Aurors, at least in Bob's opinion, they did not have their magic sticks out trying to cast those bright painbringers they called Patronuses. This, Bob thought, would be easy.

* * *

Bob was very, very wrong. Auror Second Class Michael Bridgewater gripped the handle of the flamethrower. He remembered seeing them in a film about the Americans' campaigns in the Pacific during the War, but he'd never imagined he'd have the occasion to use one himself, especially after Professor McGonagall had come to his home when he was eleven to inform him that he was a Wizard, catapulting him into this world.

Now, he was standing atop a tower at Hogwarts he remembered from his school days, where he'd gotten a very memorable snog-plus-a-copped-feel from Angela Wilkins one night during his fifth year, clutching a flamethrower for dear life while he watched a formation of Dementors approach him and his squad mates. Oddly, he felt none of the expected cold and terror, but instead a happiness and warmth down by his ankles. Looking down for a moment, he saw a silvery Patronus in the shape of a chick hopping around and providing a bubble of calm. As the Dementors approached, the Patronus spoke, in the voice of their Auror commander.

"Give 'em hell!"

Instinctively, Michael pulled the trigger and watched a stream of hot jellied petrol fly from the end of the nozzle, straight into the face of the lead dementor.

The shriek was unholy. Even as Michael stopped the stream and tracked it onto a second Dementor, his first target and five others dropped like lead balloons from the sky. Flaming lead balloons. He noticed, in the corner of his eye, that his other half-dozen comrades on the left-hand tower had achieved similar results and as a consequence, the remaining 88 Dementors looked on the verge of falling back to the gates and beyond.

Well, _that_ wasn't gonna happen, Michael reflected as suddenly a hundred Patronuses charged forth from the castle, leaping up to meet the Dementors, then encircle them and herd them towards the two towers, like lambs to the slaughter. Obliging them, Michael opened up on the foul creatures as soon as they were close enough. Own his own, he reckoned he killed 10 of them, which would make him a double dementor ace. He wondered if the Ministry would give him a medal for his performance.

Finally, the sky was clear of Dementors (though the ground was littered with their corpses), and the two fireteams were given pats on the back and told to head for the Entrance Hall, to provide a wall of fire in defence of the castle should her front doors be breached.

* * *

Lord Voldemort was not one for vocalised profanity often, but watching his Dementor force be destroyed as they were was so impressive that even he joined his forces in expressing their disbelief.

"What the fuck was that?" Pettigrew asked from behind him, quaking in fear.

"Potter, it appears, has been into the muggle comic books again," Lord Voldemort commented, leaning against the shack that had previously served as some sort of guardhouse just inside the gates.

"Milord?" Wormtail was clearly confused, not believing Lord Voldemort to be a comic aficionado. But Lord Voldemort had been a child once, and while he was a rather evil (he would say clever) child, he managed to nick his fair share of comic books from other kids at the orphanage and from the newsagents.

"His strategy, Wormtail, is straight from the comics, particularly those from Japan. Kill it with fire," the Dark Lord explained. "As you can see," he added, gesturing towards the still-smouldering dementor corpses, "it's quite effective."

Peter didn't appear to be taken with the idea of being set on fire while he was still alive and consequently burned to death. He fainted at the thought with a squeak. Idly, Lord Voldemort waved his wand and revived his Death Eater.

"Take five men and see if you can find or create boats to take you across the lake and fight your way into the Castle. If you are able to breach, make your way to the Great Hall and kill everything in your path," he directed.

"Yes, my lord," Pettigrew murmured, bowing before Voldemort before straightening up and moving to scamper off.

"And Wormtail?"

"Yes, milord?"

"You may not take any other Inner Circle members with you." Lord Voldemort knew he was sending Peter on a fool's errand. Potter would not have neglected to defend any of the entrances into the castle. Still, Peter was a fool, and had more than his fair share of fool's luck. Perhaps the guards Potter had set guarding the lake entrance would be bored and unprepared.

Pettigrew deflated. "Yes, milord." The rat Animagus ran off. Lord Voldemort smirked.

"Trolls and giants forward!" he shouted to his creature handlers, who unchained the specific creatures he had ordered and pointed them at the castle.

* * *

"Giants and trolls advancing, my lord," Auror King reported. "5 giants, looks like 16 trolls."

"Any Death Eater support behind them?" Harry asked. King took out a pair of omnioculars and was silent for a moment.

"I don't see any, my lord," King said.

"Broom teams, launch!" Harry ordered. King relayed the command via Patronus message, and the next thing Harry saw was ten streaks of red through the sky, with long strands of rope connecting pairs of riders.

* * *

Auror First Class Rachel Dawson was headed for the second giant on the left side of the wedge. Her partner, Auror Third Class Edward Sweeney, was struggling to keep up: her broom was a Nimbus 2001, while he was limping along on a Cleansweep Eight, which was about as old as he was, and not even in the same league as hers. Of course, as an Auror First, her salary was sufficient to be able to afford certain good things in life. An Auror Third like Sweeney barely pulled in enough Galleons to stay in bread and milk, much less a decent broom.

Of course, if the Knut-pinchers at the Ministry would get off their arses and release some extra money to allow the Auror Corps to buy some decent brooms for their best fliers, who provided aerial support on raids and at outdoor events, they wouldn't be having this problem. Rachel was just glad Lord Potter wasn't out here on his Firebolt being shackled to the poor sod on the Comet Two-Fifty, like her neighbour Auror First Class Kelly Newhart and her Cleansweep Ten.

"Get ready to wrap up, Sweeney!" she shouted, receiving a nod in acknowledgement as they neared the giant, who either didn't see them or was too slow to recognise what they were up to and try to stop them.

"Go!" The order was hardly needed, as both Aurors were approaching the beast at something approaching 150 kilometers per hour. Without it, however, each ran the risk of being catapulted off their brooms when the rope snapped to against the solid hide of the giant. At that instant, both had to break towards each other, then pass within an inch of each other while they applied the charms that would secure the rope portkeys to the back of the giant and activate it. The manoeuver went off with nary a hitch, and both Aurors were speeding back towards the castle as the Giants were pulled away from the battlefield and sent to the French Alps.

* * *

Lord Voldemort stood slack-jawed as his giants were sent somewhere by Portkey. He hadn't thought it possible to transport such large creatures by such methods. Obviously, Potter (or probably Dumbledore, since to his knowledge, Potter had not taken Arithmancy) had developed a Portkey powerful enough to whirl away all that mass.

Again, Lord Voldemort wished he had completed his mission that Halloween Night. Without Potter, he would have surely triumphed. It had to be Potter's tactical plan; there was no one in the Ministry now (nor had there been in the 70s and early 80s) with the strategic vision Potter was putting on display. If he had been going up against a standard Ministry battle plan, the Dementors would have killed half the Auror force, the Giants and trolls would have taken out half the rest while the idiots attempted weak, Light spells against them, and he would have had maybe a quarter of the original force to face when he brought his Death Eaters to bare.

Instead, he was the one on the receiving end of the beat-down, which did not please him in the slightest. Grabbing another Inner Circle member, he ordered him to pick out another five non-Inner Circle Death Eaters and go over the Viaduct Bridge to try and breach the castle that way. Grabbing a second, he ordered the woman to take the werewolves and try and breach a hole in the side of the castle opposite the Viaduct. Barring that, they were to burn down the Quidditch Pitch, because Potter likes Quidditch and FUCK Potter.

As the Death Eater murmured her assent and scampered off, Lord Voldemort watched in frustration as a group of Aurors walked out of the castle and fired volley after volley of blasting curses at the still-advancing trolls, making mincemeat of them. One of them paused as the group walked back, and the next thing he knew, a terrier Patronus stood in front of him.

"Bring it, Baldy," the terrier said before dissolving. Lord Voldemort recoiled in hatred.

"ATTACK!" he screamed to his forces, so incensed small bits of spittle flew from his mouth. The Death Eaters obediently charged forward, Unforgivable Curses on their lips.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew was universally regarded as an idiot. He thought that the assessment was unfair. Sure, he wasn't really "great" at everything he did. Or at anything, really. But he _was_ an Animagus, which was a distinction shared (officially) by seven other witches and wizards, along with the late and not-really-lamented-much-by-Peter James Potter and Sirius Black.

But one thing he did seem to have in large quantities was luck. The boats that commonly conveyed the ickle firsties to Hogwarts on September first were exactly where he expected they would be. Commandeering three, and loading his strike team onto them, he had one of the others cast the Disillusionment Charm on the boats and their occupants, before tapping the side of the boat with his now-invisible wand to set them off on their journey across the Lake.

The famed curtain of ivy rippled briefly as they passed through it, to sail into the Boathouse. They made their way to the dock and quietly stepped out, noting the complete absence of anybody in the dock area, which relieved Peter. Even the portrait which had greeted him as a firstie was gone, frame and all. This development he met with equal measure of both relief and anger, because the secret passage the portrait had hidden would have allowed him to go from here to the Grand Staircase and the Entrance Hall without having to go through the castle and fight.

"What's on the other side of the door?" a short, fat Death Eater asked.

"Dunno," Peter said, pulling out his wand and casting "_Hominum Revelio._" The spell returned nothing. Confidently, he ordered his men to move out. One Death Eater walked over to the door, threw it open and strolled out into the hall.

Five seconds later, he was blasted back in, his remains, now visible, smoking.

* * *

Sir Ron Weasley was bored out of his helm. He couldn't fathom why Harry had decided to send him and twelve Aurors down to guard the lake entrance, while Neville had been assigned the Viaduct and the Twins were guarding the Headmaster's Office. The Hufflepuffs were patrolling the East Wing, the Ravenclaws had the West Wing, Seamus and Dean were in the Entrance Hall with the Slytherins, awaiting the main clash Harry predicted would happen there.

Ron was frustrated. Why wasn't he being given a chance to fight? He was Harry's lieutenant, he deserved a prestigious posting, not some safe bolthole nobody would come through. His mental rant was interrupted by a light pink tendril of magic coming through the keyhole of the door to the Boathouse. The Aurors tensed, because they recognised it. Ron didn't, but it didn't matter because his shield bands snapped up and reflected it back to its source.

The Aurors drew their wands and prepared to blast whoever had cast that spell from inside the Boathouse. Just a few seconds later, the door was flung open and a Disillusioned person stepped through the doorway, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the Boathouse and the torchlight in the castle. Twelve spells flew by Ron's head, Blasting Curses, Bludgeoning Hexes, and Cutting Curses. Eleven of the twelve hit the target, knocking it back through the doorway, probably dead if the gouge in the wall from the missed spell was any indication.

"Death Eaters!" Ron exclaimed.

"No shit," one of the Aurors replied.

"Let's get 'em!" Ron said, drawing his sword in anger for the first time.

As it turned out, Ron and the Aurors didn't have to go get them, because the Death Eaters were more than content to come out to be gotten. Four of them came out, shouting Killing Curses. Ron saw two Aurors fall, while two others conjured objects to take the curses.

"_Hominum Revelio Maximus!_" Ron shouted, cancelling the Disillusionment Charms on the Death Eaters, and illuminating a rat in light pink. His eyes widened. Wormtail was here! The bastard rat who had caused so much trouble in his third year was right there for the taking. So Ron took him.

"_Stupefy Triplicus_," Ron whispered, dropping to the floor to avoid getting hit by spellfire while his team fought the other four Death Eaters. Three jets of red light shot from his wand. Pettigrew, predictably, tried to dodge the incoming spell, but ran right into the second jet. Summoning the stunned rat to him, Ron hit it with a full-powered Stunner before conjuring a cage for his one-time pet and depositing him into it. Looking up, he saw a Death Eater looming over him, wand at the ready.

"_Ava_-" he began, but was stopped mid-incantation when Ron pulled his sword up, inadvertantly slicing through the man's crotch. He dropped to his knees, squealing like the girl he now was as Ron hurriedly scooted backwards before drawing himself up and quietly putting an end to the man's screams by separating him from his main head. Looking around, he saw that that was the last of the small attack force: all the other Death Eaters (excepting Wormtail) were dead (two looked just as mangled as the first had been, the third was disassembled in a similar fashion to the one Ron had just killed. Four of his Aurors had been killed, and another two looked to be injured.

"You four stay here," Ron ordered, pointing to four of the unhurt Aurors. "The rest of you, come with me."

"What about the dead?" one of the wounded asked. Ron pondered for a moment, trying to remember what Harry had said to do with any casualties.

"Bring them along," he said. "They go to the Hospital Wing with you two," he elaborated, pointing to the two injured Aurors. Nodding, each of the Aurors going with Ron cast levitation charms on the dead and set off.

* * *

In the Entrance Hall to Hogwarts Castle, 100 Aurors, 40 animated suits of armour and 5 teenagers in silver-and-Chinese Fireball dragonhide armour stood, watching the doors to the castle shake under the assault against them by the 40 Death Eaters sent forward by Voldemort.

"Steady, lads," Auror Captain King said, his wand out and at the ready. "When they get those doors open, I want you all to blast whatever comes through with the strongest spell you can cast. If you can cast the _Avada Kedavra_, cast it. If you can't, cast a _Bombarda Maxima_. I want them to go down, and go down hard. Got it?"

The Aurors nodded. The suits of armour simply stood still. The 5 Knights looked at each other and nodded. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas resolved to cast the blasting curse. The Slytherins would cast the Killing Curse.

Twelve Aurors near the front, the twelve with the flamethrowers, swallowed nervously. Their orders were to spray fire until their fuel ran out, and hope their fellows would shield them from any curses from the Death Eaters.

* * *

Shaking his head in frustration, Lord Voldemort strolled up the path toward the front doors of Hogwarts, deflecting potshots from Aurors remaining atop the towers as he walked towards his group of followers, who despite trying for the last twenty minutes, had been unable to break down, or break through the great wooden doors. And from what he could see of the wards on the doors while his followers sent their most powerful spells at them, they wouldn't manage it any time soon.

Still, he wasn't the last remaining Heir of Slytherin for nothing. Moving his followers aside, he stopped their spellfire and looked up at the doors.

"_In the name of Salazar Slytherin, I command you to Open!_" he hissed, stepping back immediately. Death Eaters resumed their place as the wards dropped and the doors swung open.

* * *

_A/N: Hello once again, readers! I hope you enjoyed Part One of the Final Battle_. _I wrote it with a cinematic view in my head - like I would like to see a movie. I reference a few things in here, including Doctor Who and Lord of the Rings. I was also surprised by the way I went through this chapter creating so many OCs to do the dirty work. In fact, Harry only has two lines in the entire thing, for a total of nine words. Only four canon characters have speaking roles in this chapter: Voldemort, Wormtail, Harry and Ron. Seamus and Dean also make appearances, but don't speak. I'll see what I can do to rectify this error in the next chapter, which will feature a (hopefully) satisfying Wormtail death, a bit less of an easy time for the Aurors, an appearance of the supporting group, and the Death of the Dark Lord._

_Next chapter might be late. This next week is full of celebrations. My brother turns 21 on Saturday, America's Independence Day is Monday, and my own 23rd birthday is next Saturday. The day after is the 10th, which is when the next chapter is due to be posted. I try to update around 1 PM CDT, but it might be later than that._

_Until next time, everyone!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	38. Chapter 38

_Previously, on Battlestar Galactica:_

_Lord Voldemort strolled up the path toward the front doors of Hogwarts, deflecting potshots from Aurors remaining atop the towers as he walked towards his group of followers, who despite trying for the last twenty minutes, had been unable to break down, or break through the great wooden doors. And from what he could see of the wards on the doors while his followers sent their most powerful spells at them, they wouldn't manage it any time soon._

_Still, he wasn't the last remaining Heir of Slytherin for nothing. Moving his followers aside, he stopped their spellfire and looked up at the doors._

_"__In the name of Salazar Slytherin, I command you to Open!__" he hissed, stepping back immediately. Death Eaters resumed their place as the wards dropped and the doors swung open._

* * *

It was utter pandemonium. As soon as the doors had opened, the Entrance Hall had lit up with spellfire and hellfire (courtesy of the flamethrowers). Equal numbers of Aurors and Death Eaters had fallen in the initial exchanges, and the fighting had devolved into a melee.

At least for that, the defenders of Hogwarts were well prepared. All 40 of the suits of armour had been blasted apart by various curses, but their weapons had been picked up by Aurors and Death Eaters, and the fight had continued.

Now Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were standing back to back, parrying endless stabs and slashes from Death Eaters, and occassionally getting thrusts of their own in. By Seamus' count, he'd dispatched four Death Eaters with his sword, and another two with his wand. Dean's count was slightly less, having fewer opportunities for kills with his sword, he'd only taken out three combined.

They'd been separated from their Slytherin compatriots early in the action, but Seamus and Dean didn't really care about the condition about them at the moment, busy as they were.

"I thought Harry said the Dark Tosspot didn't have many Death Eaters to throw at us?" Dean shouted over his shoulder as he cleverly blocked three sword blows.

"Aye, he said that!" Seamus shouted back. "That's why there's so many of us here!"

"Well then, why are there still so many of them left?" Dean asked, getting in another thrust that pierced a Death Eater's cloak without damaging said Death Eater.

"It's the Peter Principle," Seamus shouted back.

"The what?"

"It's a theory," Seamus said, between parries and thrusts, "says that the higher up a person is in a group or organisation, the more useless and incompetent the person is."

"So the Death Eaters Harry's nicked so far and thrown in his fancy prison, all the so-called Inner Circle," Dean began.

"Are really the useless, incompetent idiots and we're fighting the most capable ones right now, right," Seamus finished.

"Makes sense to me," Dean said, slicing a Death Eater's arm off, only to have it be replaced by another Death Eater picking up the sword and rejoining the fight.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, six Death Eaters were (if you asked them) sneaking across the Viaduct Bridge. In reality, they looked like hunchbacks or pawns in a chess match slowly hobbling across it.

These actions amused Neville Longbottom, who Harry Potter had assigned to guard the Viaduct against exactly this sort of incursion. With the help of his Auror squad, he'd erected a proximity ward at the entrance to the bridge to alert them if anyone was attempting to approach the castle that way. That ward had been tripped half an hour previously, and Neville had poked his head out to see six slow-moving figures on the Bridge. Snickering, he'd gathered his 12 Aurors around him and quickly come up with a plan.

Now, the plan was ready. Stepping to the middle of the Bridge, he cancelled his Disillusionment Charm.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said with a smile. "May I ask your business at Hogwarts this evening?"

The Death Eaters looked up at him in shock. Before they could straighten up, draw their wands and curse him, the 12 Aurors removed their own Disillusionments, revealing that they surrounded the Death Eaters, and bound them with _Incarcerous_ charms.

"That was too easy," Neville said, disappointed. "Oh well. Orders are orders. Dispose of them," he said, turning on his heel swiftly and walking back towards the castle, his scarlet cloak billowing behind him in a manner that reminded the Aurors of Severus Snape, which was exactly Neville's intention.

He didn't shed a tear as the Aurors shrugged and seized each of the bound Death Eaters and flung them over the sides of the bridge, sending them screaming to their deaths in the ravine below.

* * *

On yet a third side of the castle, a frenzied battle was about to take place. A Patronus Charm had warned Justin Finch-Fletchey, Ernie MacMillian and Zacharias Smith, along with their Auror squads, that 14 hostiles had been spotted heading towards the East Wing. They had immediately set off for the most likely breach point, to find rock chips already falling to the floor and spellfire sounding from outside. It seemed to be only a few people trying to break in, so one of the Aurors had sent a message to confirm the numbers.

The reply had come back 14, but that they were suspected of being werewolves. The Aurors had immediately conjured silver weapons of various sorts, to protect themselves against the threat. The Hufflepuffs had simply drawn their swords, knowing that contrary to popular belief, a werewolf will die if stabbed through the heart or decapitated regardless of the metallurgic qualities of the blade doing the deed.

"Should we help them out?" Justin asked, _sotto voce_, to Ernie and Zach. "I'm getting tired of waiting." The other two Knights looked at each other for a moment before nodding. All three promptly aimed their wands at the wall in their off hands.

"_Bombarda Maxima!_" the shouted. The wall exploded outwards. The Aurors looked at them in shock, as did the suddenly visible Death Eaters.

"Hi there!" Justin said cheerfully, sliding his wand back into its holster and taking a better grip of his sword. The werewolves snarled before charging through the hole and straight into the pack of armed defenders.

One ran straight onto Justin's sword, impaling itself with a howl as it tried to bite and scratch him, but his armour protected him long enough for him to pull the blade out of the man-animal's stomach and swing it through its neck.

Ernie sidestepped the first werewolf that charged him, giving it a passing slice along the stomach before dropping his shoulder into another challenger, dropping it to the floor and providing an easy mark for Ernie's Blasting Curse, which turned the wolf's head to mush. Then the first wolf was on him again, having torn the throat out of an Auror, but Ernie quickly thrust his sword into the werewolf's heart, putting paid to the monster.

Zach wasn't attacked by a werewolf at first. He drew the attention of the female Death Eater that had accompanied them. The woman wasted no time in sending a long chain of Dark spells at him, which his shields snapped up to absorb. He had no idea what any of them were, because she'd cast completely non-verbally. The only ones he was sure she hadn't cast were the Unforgivables, simply because he knew of no witch or wizard alive who could cast those silently. Even the Dark Lord screamed his _Crucio_sand _Avada Kedavra_s at the top of his lungs.

As his shields absorbed each curse in the chain, the witch grew frustrated and transfigured a piece of debris into a blade of her own. Grinning, Zach moved forward and the fight began. It didn't last very long, because either the Death Eater was rubbish at Transfiguration or too tired to make it last long; either way three parries in, the sword became a hunk of stone in her hands, leaving her unable to block Zach's slice that slit her throat.

The Aurors had lost five of their number to the savage werewolves before they were able to mount an effective counter-attack. When they did, the battle didn't last much longer. All the werewolves were killed in the end, with a loss of just one more Auror. A Patronus message sent by the Senior Auror in the group revealed their next job.

"Dead and wounded to the Hospital Wing," Justin said. "Everyone else, to the Entrance Hall!"

* * *

Ron Weasley and what was left of his Auror Squad managed to avoid the fracas there entirely, on their way to find Harry in the Clock Tower.

"Harry! Harry!"

"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked. "I'm a bit busy here." Harry was staring at the Marauder's Map, which was currently showing an epic brouhaha going on in the Entrance Hall: 150 labelled dots were whirling around in a way that somebody ignorant of the fact that a battle was going on down there would think was a ballroom dance. Harry was most concerned about the fact that one of the names displayed on the map, just inside the Doors, was "Tom Riddle".

"We caught Wormtail!" Ron exclaimed. This was sufficient to draw Harry's attention away from the map.

"Wormtail, you say?" he asked, spinning around to look for himself. Ron held up the cage holding a rat with a silver paw.

"Well well well," Harry said, scrutinising the rat. "How'd you catch him?"

"He was leading a squad trying to break in via the Boathouse. We took care of 'em."

"Good to hear. Is he stunned?" Ron looked unsure, so he pulled out his wand and stunned Wormtail again for good measure.

"He is now," Ron said.

"Good, take him out and transform him back. I think I know just what to do with him," Harry said. Ron looked uneasy, but complied. Harry waved his wand and the unconscious man in Death Eater garb woke up with a start.

"Harry?" he asked, looking about the room in fear.

"Good evening, Wormtail," Harry said, spitting the nickname like a curse.

Wormtail gulped.

"Yes, you're right to fear. For three years you've cheated death. For fifteen years now, you've escaped justice, but that ends tonight. I should have let Sirius and Remus kill you in the Shrieking Shack, but I was a naive little idiot," Harry said. "Even so, my naive idiocy will pay off tonight, because you owe me a life debt for what I did for you that night, Peter. And I'm calling it due."

Wormtail gasped, and his body glowed golden in acknowledgement of what he owed Harry.

"You will go down to the Entrance Hall and kill as many Death Eaters as you can before they give you what you've got coming. So I Command, So Mote It Be," Harry said. Wormtail flashed white, binding the order to him before disappearing along with the glow.

"Ron, escort Mister Pettigrew downstairs, if you would be so kind," Harry said. Ron hauled Wormtail to his feet and pointed him towards the staircase.

"That was damn scary, Harry," he said. "Remind me not to owe you a life debt and piss you off."

"Sure thing, Ron. Now get going, and be safe."

"See you in a few, Harry," Ron said, disappearing down the stairs after Wormtail.

Harry returned his attention to the Map, where he soon saw Wormtail's dot appear in the Entrance Hall. As quick as a flash, names started disappearing from the Map. Harry counted ten names that vanished before Tom Riddle's dot moved from the doorway. Wormtail's dot vanished soon after.

"Good fucking riddance," Harry said.

* * *

The last thing Seamus had been expecting when he'd seen the Death Eater come down the stairs into the Entrance Hall was for him to bring up his wand and cast a succession of Killing Curses at his fellows. He wasn't alone; everybody in the Hall seemed to stop, making it even easier for the madman to cut down his "buddies". Even once the Dark Lord, who nobody had seen, moved and killed the traitor, the defenders and attackers alike remained still in silence.

Until Seamus broke out of his stupor and swung his sword to behead two of the Death Eaters attacking him and seriously wound a third, that was. The fighting broke out in full force once again, though with the Death Eater force seriously diminished by the traitor's actions, they were unable to fully concentrate on attacking the Aurors and Knights, looking over their shoulders as they were for any other betrayals. This problem was compounded by the arrival of Justin Finch-Fletchey, Ernie MacMillian and Zacharias Smith with their Aurors. The Death Eaters were all quickly cut down, leaving Voldemort alone facing down the wands of over eighty Aurors and all nine Knights (though Urquhart did look slightly wounded).

Hissing in outrage, Voldemort brought his wand up to begin cursing the Aurors himself when the magically magnified voice of Harry Potter boomed throughout the Hall.

"Alright, Tom. It's just down to you now. Since I'm in a good mood after watching Pettigrew get what he's deserved for so bloody long, I'll let you name the place for our own little fight. Any place in the castle or on the grounds."

Voldemort snarled. He knew the question was really "Where do you want to die?", and that made his answer easy. Magnifying the sound of his own voice, he shouted four words.

"The Chamber of Secrets." There was silence for a moment, if you discounted the smattering of whispers that broke out amongst the castle's defenders.

"Very well. I'll meet you at the bathroom in ten minutes for the trip down."

* * *

When Harry arrived at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he found Voldemort standing there with a sneer, having already opened the access to the pipe. Harry wasn't entirely surprised, since the other had only had to walk up one stairway and down three corridors to reach the second-floor girl's lavatory, whereas Harry had had to descend three flights of stairs and take five corridors. He was flanked by Ron and Neville, as well as a reporter and a cameraman. These last two drew a curious glance from Voldemort, who gestured to them with a raised piece-of-skin-where-an-eyebrow-should-have-been.

"Oh, come now Tom," Harry said, patronisingly, "got to make sure our fight gets the appropriate coverage, publicity and documentation, don't we?"

"Yes, I do suppose a picture of me holding up your severed head on the front page of the _Prophet_ would be agreeable," Voldemort said with a nasty smile. "Come, then, Potter, if you think you're ready."

"Oh, I'm ready," Harry said. "You might want to prepare yourself, though. Chamber and the passageway are a bit different from fifty years ago."

"What?" Voldemort did not sound please.

"Gilderoy Lockhart blew up the ceiling of the passageway, caused a cave-in that we could barely squeeze through four years ago. Oh, and there's a great rotting snake carcass in the chamber itself."

"You killed the basilisk?"

"Well, it was that or be eaten, and 12-year-old me didn't really fancy being eaten," Harry said non-chalantly. Voldemort's eyes flashed, but he simply turned and leapt down the pipe. Harry and his entourage followed, each casting Cushioning Charms before they exited. The walk to the Chamber occurred in complete silence, save for the annoyed noise Voldemort made when they encountered the cave-in, before he waved his wand and repaired the damage done by Lockhart, and vanished all the rat bones.

When they reached the Chamber themselves, they were greeted by a horrible stench and the skeleton of the basilisk. This time, everyone drew their wands and cast Air Purifying Charms, which at least dealt with the stench. The skeleton was banished back to the island the statue of Salazar Slytherin stood on, leaving a long strip of stone for Harry and Voldemort to fight. The rest of the spectators cleared off to the sides, with the photographer clambering over the back of one of the snake statues lining the sides to have a good vantage point.

"OK, Tom," Harry said, once it was just him and Voldemort on the strip. "As obsessed with pure-blood culture and the Old Ways as you are, I'm sure you know what we're here for today."

Voldemort nodded. "I assume you're going to tell me anyway, though, Potter?"

"Yes, because the longer I talk, the longer you have to wait for me to kill you. This is both a Blood Duel, and an Honor Duel, issued under the Old Forms. You have created a blood fued with my Family, Tom Riddle. I am the third Potter Lord you have fought in your life. The first two, you managed to kill, but I've always been a pain in your arse, haven't I? This is the fifth time we've squared off, and you've never managed to kill me in any of the previous four goes. Oh, you've hurt me a couple times, and knocked me out once, but that hardly counts for anything."

Voldemort frowned.

"I'm the third Potter Lord you've fought in your life. I will also be the last. This duel is to the death, and my weapon of choice is this sword," Harry said, drawing Godric Gryffindor's sword from its scabbard. "The last time I drew this sword in this place, I killed your Horcrux and your giant pet snake. This time, it'll be you. _En garde_, Tom Riddle."

"I grow tired of you, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, as his wand created a sword that looked like it was made out of black and purple flames. "I know not why I haven't defeated you before, especially considering how easy it was to put down your father and grandfather, but I am committed to making you shut your loud, boastful mouth for good."

They stood there for a moment, sizing each other up, neither wanting to make the first move. Truth be told, Harry was slightly intimidated by Voldemort's Darkfire Sword, because it really did look like it was made out of actual, honest-to-God fire. Finally, though, Voldemort swept forward with a downward slice, and when Harry brought his sword up to meet it, he was relieved to find that his enemy's sword, appearances aside, was solid.

The fight continued for a quarter of an hour in that vein; Voldemort would attack and Harry would block. Harry, for his part, managed to get in a few shots of his own, but they too were blocked by Voldemort. Harry knew he only had to nick Voldemort for the basilisk venom to start making its way through his bloodstream and cripple him enough for Harry to finish him. The problem was, he was continually being forced backwards by the power Voldemort was putting into his attacks. Soon he would be at the end of the strip and would literally have his back against the wall.

Voldemort looked as though he could see this as well, and pressed harder, his sword swinging down so hard that it jarred Harry's arms to block it. Eventually, he felt cool stone and metal against his back. He knew from experience, without turning, that it was the exit pipe for the chamber, so he did the only sensible thing he could do as Voldemort swung his sword for a decapitation blow: he ducked. The blade struck and cut through the edge of the exposed pipe like butter, but Voldemort's momentum carried him into a 360 degree turn that he was halfway through when Harry popped back up and stuck his sword into Voldemort's back.

The Dark Lord dropped to his knees in shock, his sword falling from his hands and dematerializing before it hit the floor. Harry pulled the sword out, and walked around the half-snake half-man to look him in the eye.

"You know exactly why you haven't been able to kill me, Tom," he said. "At first it was my mother's love, but you're correct in thinking you got around that by using my blood for your little resurrection. But when you did that, you made another cock-up that prevented you from ever being able to kill me. You used Wormtail to give you flesh. Wormtail, who was under a life-debt to me at the time. You took some of that magic into yourself that night, which made it literally impossible for you to harm me until I called the debt due."

"But you did, tonight," Voldemort gasped. "You must have done."

"Oh I did," Harry acknowledged. "I did indeed."

"Then why couldn't I kill you tonight?"

"Because now, I'm better than you," Harry said. "You're a weak 70-year-old man with only a seventh of your soul in your body, and I'm a 16-almost-17-year-old man coming into my maturity with my full soul and thousands of years worth of magical knowledge and skill dumped into my head."

Voldemort looked up at Harry with a glare that showed pure hatred.

"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you my sword's injected with basilisk venom, which is now making its way through your veins. I'm afraid there won't be a phoenix along to cry for you, Tom. Any last words?"

Voldemort's glare didn't diminish, but he did open his mouth to say something.

"I'm not sorry," he said, his glare becoming defiant as the poison finally did its job and he toppled over dead.

Harry nodded and turned away, as Ron and Neville walked up to clap him on the back in congratulations.

* * *

_A/N: Ding Dong, Voldy's dead! Apologies about the delay in getting this chapter out, I've been busy with other things and couldn't get the vision for what I wanted for this chapter right until yesterday evening. Since then, I went on a writing tear, and here you are. Now, since I want to get to 40 chapters, I'll have an aftermath chapter of close to the typical length (3,000 words or so) on the 30th, and I'll do an epilogue in the vein of JKR's for the 10th, but I won't promise to get that near the typical length. Then again, I do have a lot of characters to tell you what happened to, so we'll see._

_As always, I ask for your opinions, good or bad, through the means of that little review link below, and I'll see you on the 30th!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


	39. Chapter 39

**DARK LORD DEFEATED**

_Harry Potter Braves Chamber of Secrets Again To Kill Tom Riddle_

_Last night, the insurrection of the terrorist Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort was ended for good by the hand of Special Deputy Minister for Security Harry Potter, wielding the legendary Sword of Godric Gryffindor. At the climax of a frenzied battle outside and within the walls of Hogwarts Castle which saw several amazing feats, including the utter destruction of the Dementor population of the United Kingdom and the transportation via Portkey of five Giants alongside mundane events like the deaths of the Dark Lord's fifty remaining Death Eaters, Harry Potter graciously allowed his enemy, who he had challenged to an Honour Duel to the Death to satisfy a Blood Fued the now-deceased Dark Lord had cultivated with the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, to pick the specific location of the duel._

_The Dark Lord replied "The Chamber of Secrets." _Prophet_ readers will recall the events at Hogwarts School during the 1992-93 school year, where five students were Petrified by an unknown monster purportedly living in said Chamber. Conversations between Potter and the Dark Lord prior to the duel, as well as visual evidence presented at the site of the duel, reveal the rumours surrounding those events were mostly true: a Basilisk had been hidden beneath the school by Salazar Slytherin and had somehow been released to attack students. The monster was killed by Harry Potter, then 12, for which the young man received a Special Award for Services to the School._

_Inside the Chamber, which is accessed via a long, long pipe in a girl's lavatory on the second floor of Hogwarts, the Dark Lord and the Special Deputy Minister for Security faced off. The Special Deputy Minister was supported by his friends Sir Neville Longbottom and Sir Ronald Weasley. The Dark Lord, with all his followers dead, stood alone._

"_I am the third Potter Lord you've fought in your life. I will also be the last," Lord Potter said, referencing his grandfather, the late Lords Charlus (d. 1977) and James (d. 1981), both killed by Riddle._

"_I grow tired of you, Harry Potter," Riddle replied, conjuring a sword of black and purple fire. "I am committed to making you shut your loud, boastful mouth for good."_

_The duel then began. For almost the entire time, Riddle was on the attack while Lord Potter played defence, masterfully parrying and blocking every strike despite being forced backwards by their ferocity, until he was pressed up against the back wall. Riddle, sensing an opportunity, swung with what would have been a killing blow had Lord Potter not ducked. The force put into the strike turned Riddle around, allowing Lord Potter to strike, stabbing his sword through the Dark Lord's abdomen and forcing him to his knees._

_Lord Potter then revealed why Riddle's many attempts on his life over the years have not succeeded._

"_At first," he said, "it was my mother's love" that gave him protection, a protection Riddle circumvented in the ritual which re-gave him life by taking some of Lord Potter's blood. But, according to Lord Potter, in the very same ritual Riddle "made another cock-up" by using Peter Pettigrew, who owed Lord Potter a life debt. By doing so, Lord Potter explained, Riddle had taken some of the magic in the life debt into himself, which prevented him from harming Lord Potter until the debt was called due, which he had done earlier in the battle._

_Riddle, confused, asked Lord Potter if he was under no hindrances from harming him at the time of the duel, how he had still been unable to do any damage to him. Lord Potter smirked and said just because Riddle had no restrictions from hurting him didn't make him able, calling the dying Dark Lord "a weak 70-year-old man with only a seventh of your soul in your body", a reference to the Horcruxes the Dark Lord had created and Lord Potter had destroyed prior to the battle._

_Lord Potter then revealed to the dying Riddle that his sword had been coated in basilisk venom, which was now spreading through Riddle's body. He remarked that "there won't be a phoenix along to cry" for Riddle, and asked him if he had any last words._

_The Dark Lord looked up at him, fierce defiance in his eyes, and remarked "I'm not sorry" before he keeled over dead. Lord Potter was congratulated by Sir Neville and Sir Ronald before we made our way from the Chamber._

* * *

If Harry Potter thought he'd received a lot of owls when he'd first been named Special Deputy Minister for Security, the aftermath of the battle and the _Daily Prophet_ article made him re-define his perceptions of "a lot". Indeed, the official first day of the Easter Holidays saw 30,000 owls swoop into the Great Hall, fighting for the honour of being the first to deliver their owner's missive to the Savior, a fight that was won by an owl bearing a letter with the seal of the Ministry of Magic.

_Harry,_

_Congratulations on your success Saturday. If you can catch a break, I'd like to meet with you this afternoon to discuss winding down your Department, as well as your reward._

_Sincerely,_

_Amos Diggory, PC_

_Minister for Magic_

The remaining letters were all messages of gratitude, to which Harry composed a standard reply that he sent off with each owl back to its owner.

_Thank you for your kind note regarding my defeat of Tom Riddle. I was quite glad to find that witches and wizards like you from up and down the country have had my back throughout this process. Going forward, I hope you'll continue to support the Ministry of Magic in its efforts to keep our country peaceful and safe for all._

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Sir Harry Potter, KCSK, PC_

_Viscount Potter_

_Baron Black_

He never would get around to reading every last piece of post he received that day, and most of the letters in fact became lining for Hedwig's cage.

"Harry." The voice of Albus Dumbledore came quietly from behind him, surprising him and knocking his goblet over onto a small stack of letters as he whirled around.

"I should like to speak with you in my office before you go off to the Ministry," he said, his eyes lacking their customary twinkle and instead displaying what Harry thought of as an odd mixture of pride and sadness.

* * *

Harry walked up the stairs to the Headmaster's office thirty minutes later, the gargoyle springing aside as he approached. Even more curiously, the door to the Headmaster's office was already open. Harry knocked anyway, drawing Dumbledore's attention away from some work he was doing at his desk.

"Please, Harry, do come in," he said. Harry walked into the office and took a seat before the desk at Dumbledore's invitation.

"You wished to speak with me, sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I did, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I wanted to ask you how you are feeling."

"How I'm feeling, sir?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed with a nod.

"Tired, I guess," Harry said. "I was up all night two nights ago, after all. And relieved that Voldemort's gone for good."

This answer didn't seem to please Dumbledore.

"Tired and relieved? Harry, you killed a man Sunday morning."

"No, I killed Voldemort Sunday morning," Harry replied. "He was many things when he died, but a man wasn't one of them."

"I had hoped you would feel remorseful for ending another's life, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"There's a saying, Headmaster," Harry replied. "Sometimes, some people just need killing. I gave the Giants a break, because they're endangered, but everyone and everything else following Voldemort falls into that category for me."

"I don't want you turning Dark, Harry," Dumbledore said. "As powerful as you are, it would be a disaster for this country."

"I'm not turning Dark, Professor," Harry said. "We've had this talk before, as you may recall. It's not Dark to kill in defence of your country. It's not Dark to kill someone who has been trying to kill you since you were one year old. It's not Dark to kill someone as evil as Voldemort."

"All the warning signs are there, Harry," Dumbledore persisted.

"Fine, then. You want proof I'm not going Dark?" Harry said. He whipped out his wand and pointed it at himself. "_Magia Affinitas!_"

A blindingly white aura surrounded Harry, illuminating the entire office for nearly a minute before Harry cancelled the spell. Fawkes the phoenix trilled a happy song and flew over to sit on Harry's shoulder, allowing the younger wizard to stroke his feathers while he smirked at the Headmaster.

"Very well, Harry. What are your plans now?"

"In the short term, see to it that every last Death Eater finds his or her way quickly from the land of the living. The trials should start soon; I'll have to talk with the Minister about that this afternoon. But beyond that, I want to relax and enjoy my last year at Hogwarts. Long term, well, I don't really have any long-term goals other than get married and have some kids. So now I have another long-term goal: to set some more long-term goals," Harry said.

"You have no long-term plans?" Dumbledore asked, sounding astounded.

"Nope," Harry said, popping the 'p' sound. "Why do you sound surprised, Headmaster?" Harry asked in a teasing voice. "After all, you're the one who wanted me to have a normal childhood. Now that I don't have a mass-murdering psychopathic lunatic after me, I actually can!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well, Harry, I shall detain you no longer."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "D'you mind if I use your fireplace to travel to the Ministry?"

"Not at all, Harry, feel free," Dumbledore said. Harry bade him a good afternoon and set off via Floo for the Ministry.

* * *

Harry arrived in the Atrium of the Ministry to a thunderstruck crowd that was quite quick to cheer and applaud him once they noticed him. Fortunately, he did manage to make it halfway to the lifts before they did, but it took him over an hour's worth of accepting platitudes and shaking hands before he was able to enter one, which he directed to take him to Level One.

He was welcomed in a similar fashion there, and by the time he arrived in the Minister's office it was nearly three o'clock.

"Ah, Harry, glad you could make it," Amos said, surveying the haggard young man. "Any problems?"

"Just a lot of well-wishers," Harry said. "So. We're done, then?"

"Not quite," Amos said. "We'd like to keep your department active until after the trials. They're starting in June, and we're planning on having a heavy security presence around them, in accordance with your framework."

"OK, sure," Harry said. "I've got no problem with that."

"We'd also like to geet the ball rolling on giving you your just reward for your heroism and sacrifice in fighting against Voldemort. I'm nominating you for the Order of Merlin, First Class, which as you may know comes with a medal and a 10,000 Galleon prize. Your Lieutenants will also get Orders, First Class, and the other Knights will get Orders, Second Class, which comes with a medal and a 5,000 Galleon prize. The commanders of the Auror companies will get Orders, Third Class," Amos said.

"OK," Harry said.

"Furthermore," Amos continued, "since there was a bounty of 1,000 Galleons on every Death Eater, those funds will be disbursed to the defenders of Hogwarts who killed the Death Eaters. For killing Voldemort himself, you will receive an additional 10,000 Galleons."

"OK," Harry said. "But I should have you know, it was Peter Pettigrew that killed ten of them, before Voldemort killed him, so there's 11,000 Galleons you can keep in the Ministry's vaults."

"Really?"

"Well, he wouldn't have done it if I hadn't called in the life-debt he owed me and commanded him to," Harry said. "Besides, he's technically been dead for 15 years."

"I suppose you do have a point," Amos said with a chuckle. "But come now, Harry, we're both due at the Palace for you to recieve the rest of your rewards."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well, I hope Her Majesty shows the same restraint you have, Minister. After all, I just stabbed a lunatic with a poisoned sword, it's not like I stopped someone from detonating a nuclear bomb in London."

"Oh, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, Harry," Amos said, walking to the fireplace, tossing in the Floo powder and heading off to Buckingham Palace. Harry followed suit.

When he arrived, he found the wizard's office occupied only by the Minister.

"He's off already, then?" Harry asked. Amos nodded.

"As soon as I exited, he left."

"Alright then," Harry said, sitting down in one of the chairs. It was only a few minutes' wait before they were summoned. Walking into the room, both Harry and Amos executed flawless bows to the Queen.

"Good afternoon, milord and Minister Diggory," the Queen said. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Harry turned slightly pink and smiled before replying "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"You have done a great service to Us and Our country, Lord Potter," she said. "Minister, you have discussed with him your part?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Amos said.

"Very good. Now, milord, our understanding is that you will be reluctant to accept a great deal of additions to your name, so we have decided to balance accomodating your preferences while making clear the fact that you have done a great and heroic deed. To that end, you will be invested in the Most Honourable Order of the Bath and the Royal Victorian Order at the rank of Knight Grand Cross, and be created Earl Potter of Atcham, since you seem to be taken with your family's Manor in Shropshire."

Harry sighed in relief. "As you wish, Your Highness," he said. "I thank you for the honour."

"The honour is ours, Lord Potter, to have such a valiant young man who is willing to defend our country from evil. We shall contact you this summer with the details of the award ceremony for these, as well as for your Ministry awards."

"Thank you again, Your Majesty."

* * *

_A/N: Yes, it's short, and yes, it's mostly shit. Chapters like this don't appear to be my forte. Well, that and I lost six hours of writing time yesterday when some relatives dropped by, and am now being dragged off again. I just have enough time to publish this, so I hope you'll forgive me for the poor quality. I'll see you on August 10th with another short chapter telling you where everybody is and what they're doing in 2011 (as opposed to JKR's 2017)._

_Please don't forget to review!_

_-Phoenix II_


	40. Chapter 40

_2011_

_The Office of Professor Severus Snape, MDADA, Mpotions_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Scotland_

"Good morning, Professor Snape."

"Potter."

"Cheer up, Severus, at least it's after dawn this time," Harry said, walking cheerfully over to Snape's desk, conjuring up a tea set as he did so.

"And what, pray tell, do I owe the dubious pleasure of your company at half past seven in the morning nearly a month before the start of term?"

"Well, I've got meetings for most of the morning, a Wizengamot session this afternoon, and we're taking Jimmy and Danny to their first Quidditch match tonight," Harry said. "And your owl indicated you'd rather get this over with sooner than later."

"Indeed," Snape said. "I was wondering if you might have time to come speak to my NEWT students about Tom Riddle and his methods again this year. As much as it displeases me, your presence seems to have a positive effect on the students."

"When were you thinking?" Harry asked. "I know the last couple of years we've done it in the Spring Term."

"I see nothing wrong with the way things went the last couple of years," Snape said. "April, the Monday after the Easter Holidays."

"OK," Harry said. "Professor Flitwick wants me in around that time to help demonstrate the Patronus Charm as well, so that works fine."

Snape sneered. "How long will it be until I have to put up with the first of your blasted children, anyway?"

"Next year," Harry replied with a smirk. "Jimmy's already trying to think up ways to introduce himself to you."

"Potter, you may inform that child that you cursed with your infernal father's name that if I am pranked any time after his arrival in this castle, Headmistress be damned, I will have Filch hanging him by his thumbs in the dungeons until Christmas."

Harry simply laughed. "I'll see you in April, Severus," he said, walking out of the office.

* * *

Just a little over a week into his thirty-first year, The Noble Lord Sir Harry Potter, KCSK, Order of Merlin, First Class, GCB, GCVO, PC, Earl of Atcham was enjoying his life. Shortly after graduating from Hogwarts in 1998, he'd accepted an offer from the English National Team to play Seeker in the 1998 World Cup, held in Germany. The team, happy to have their country's Saviour on the team, had improved greatly on their 1994 result, coming in tops in group play (beating Poland, Uruguay, and Italy) before losing to Bulgaria, still led by Seeker Viktor Krum, in the quarterfinals.

Harry had thoroughly enjoyed his matchup against Krum, but in a reversal of fortune from the last time he'd seen the Bulgarian team in action, it was Harry's English team whose Chasers couldn't find the hoops, and thus despite Harry catching the Snitch, Bulgaria won 300-200 in a six-hour match.

He'd married Hermione in 2000, shortly after leading England to a bronze-medal win in the 2000 European Championships (defeating France 430-90). She'd chosen a career in magical law, as an advocate for the Muggleborns and others mistreated by the blatant bigotry on the statute book that had been enacted by the Wizengamot. Harry, with his votes in the Wizengamot and his seat on the Privy Council, had supported her in her efforts to improve the situations of house-elves and werewolves, which he had a sneaking suspicion had factored into her agreement to marry him.

They'd had five children: three sons (James Sirius, age 10; Daniel Edward, age 8; and Harrison Charlus, age 2) and two daughters (Lily Emma, age 6; and Rose Mary, age 4). Harry was now more or less a stay-at-home Dad, as Hermione had expressed her desire to continue her career and had explained to him that his jobs (Quidditch player and nobleman) weren't exactly time consuming, leaving him plenty of time to raise their kids. Harry had accepted this argument, and loved all five of his kids. Personally, he thought he'd done a damn good job raising them, for a guy who'd spent ten years of his childhood in a cupboard. Basically, he'd been the complete opposite of Aunt Petunia, and everything seemed to have worked out great.

* * *

"Weasley!"

"Yes sir?"

"You're on guard duty for their Lordships downstairs today. Meeting starts at noon, be there at half past eleven. Take Smith and MacMillian with you."

"Yes sir."

Sir Ronald Weasley, KLSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class, had entered Auror training after graduation from Hogwarts after being refused a contract by the Chudley Cannons after a trial period. With a chip on his shoulder from being referred to as "Harry Potter's sidekick", Ron had thrown himself into his studies at the Auror Academy and graduated top of the class. Within five years, he was an Auror, First Class, and he'd recently sat an exam to screen for promotion to Auror Captain.

He too was married, to Lavender Brown. The affection she had for him was nearly sickening, and wasn't even halfway returned by him, but it was enough to keep her happy. They had three kids, Richard Arthur, age 8; Mallory Mauve, age 5; and David Bilius, age 2.

* * *

"Neville!"

"Harry, good to see you again, mate."

"Have you seen that proposal from the ICW representatives?"

"Yes. Are they completely mental?"

"They must be. Nobody sane would ask for me to give a speech about my opinion on the conflict between the French and Bulgarian Veela tribes."

"They might as well ask Seamus for his opinions on pornography. No male wizard is going to give an opinion other than 'are they selling tickets?'"

"Too right. If our noble colleagues decide to send me, I'm going to end up in my own prison for hexing and cursing them all until their bits fall off."

"Very funny, Harry. Hey, is that Ron down there?"

Lord Sir Neville Longbottom, KLSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class, Earl of Braxton Moor had succeeded his grandmother in the senior title of the Longbottom line the day of his seventeenth birthday. Harry's earldom had been conferred on him the next day, Harry's 17th birthday. They had celebrated their ascension to their official majorities by turning the Clerk of the Wizengamot into a canary.

Along with Harry, when the younger man could be pulled away from the Quidditch Pitch, they had formed a stalwart bloc in favour of the numerous reforms advocated by the Minister and activists like Hermione. While they took their fair share of rhetorical bruises and bloody noses (excepting the one time in 2003 when Neville had actually decked Lord Grey in defence of Remus Lupin during a debate on Werewolf rights), they still had succeeded more often than not.

In 2001, he had married Hannah Abbott. She had so far borne him four children, Franklin Harry, age 9; Alice Hannah, age 7; Nigel Algernon, age 5; and Thomas Joseph, age 3. In 2009, she'd purchased The Leaky Cauldron from the aging Tom, running it just as smoothly as he ever had.

There was talk that Neville would soon put politics on the backburner and take up the position of Herbology Professor at Hogwarts. He had, after all, obtained a Mastery in the subject in the two years after graduation at the urging of Professor Sprout, and his private greenhouses were a highly profitable side-business for him, supplying apothecaries and potioneers with some very rare potions ingredients for the right price. Neville hadn't decided either way yet, but he had hinted to Harry and Professor Sprout that when she decided to call it a career, he would probably jump at the chance to teach anyone willing to learn about Herbology.

* * *

"So you think the Government's plans to cut more spending in Whitehall is a positive?" the newsreader asked.

"Absolutely, John," Sir Justin Finch-Fletchey CSK MP PC, Order of Merlin, Second Class replied. "The TUC is only raising a fuss because so many of the unproductive bureaucrats getting the sack under the Government's reforms are members of the union, and of the Labour Party. The point is that we are saving the people of Britain's money that would have been wasted on high-priced consultants and special advisors by Labour, and instead that money is going to go to much better causes, like reducing our massive deficits and paying for better front-line services for everyone in the United Kingdom."

Justin's life after the defeat of Voldemort had been one of the more interesting ones. A couple weeks after the battle, he'd received an owl notifying him that his father had lost his seat to Labour in the general election that saw Tony Blair become Prime Minister. The letter had reassured Justin that he would be able to return to Hogwarts for his seventh year, paying for his tuition with money from the Finch-Fletchey's portfolio of investments.

Upon graduation, Justin had used the year to, with more than a little bit of assistance from Hermione Granger, who decided he'd had a brilliant idea, revise thoroughly for and sit both GCSEs and A-levels in maths, English, chemistry, physics and History. He then applied for, and was accepted into, a place at Trinity College, Oxford where he read PPE.

After graduation in 2002, he was approached by Harry Potter, who explained he was looking for someone who could help liase between the Muggle and Magical governments. He explained that he had convinced both the Minister and the Wizengamot of the usefulness of such a person, and that with Justin's pedigree and his own skills, he was a natural first choice. The challenge, Justin had explained, would be getting him into Parliament and into Government.

The first happened in 2005, with Justin standing for election in his father's old constituency and taking it easily from the Labour MP. With what he expected was a bit of clever politicking from Harry, he found himself appointed to a junior shadow cabinet post.

Then, after the 2010 general election, he found himself as a Parliamentary Private Secretary to the Cabinet Secretary, able to bend the ear of the Prime Minister whenever the owls sent him a message asking him to.

He had not expected his relationship with Daphne Greengrass – born out of what, he'd had no idea, but he'd not exactly complained when she'd seized him that morning in Avebury and dragged him off to her bedroom – to last much beyond Hogwarts, but evidently he had some quality that she quite enjoyed and consequently she had taken "great pains" to Apparate to his house in Oxfordshire once a week during his gap year to give him a "break" from his revision.

After making his agreement with Harry, Justin had found himself with a job offer from the Conservative Party as a researcher (the timing, to him, was not so coincidental). At Daphne's suggestion, he'd arranged to visit her father and ask for her hand in marriage. The irate pureblood had terrified the poor Hufflepuff initially, before being dragged into a side room by his daughter. When he came out, he immediately agreed, and the two were married the next summer. By the time 2005 came around, they'd already had a son and a daughter (Jacob Daniel, born 2003 and Sarah Marie, born 2004), guaranteeing Justin's selection to stand for Parliament.

Now, he was an informal liason between two governments, probably the most important Muggle-born wizard in several generations, and showing up all those who he had expected he would have attended Eton with. He had a wife who remained smoking hot even after going through three pregnancies (David Alistair had been born in 2008), and three wonderful kids.

Life was certainly good for Justin Finch-Fletchey.

* * *

Sir Seamus Finnigan CSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class, to the surprise of absolutely no one, had used his award money from the Order of Merlin and Death Eater bounties to buy Playwizard. He was unmarried, but took his role as Wizarding Britain's Hugh Hefner seriously, constantly surrounding himself with attractive young witches.

Sir Dean Thomas CSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class, was one of his photographers. He also did work for the _Daily Prophet_, which was now run by Harry (the court case had indeed gone favourably for him, and Barnabas Cuffe had been forced to resign in disgrace by Harry once he took possession of the paper) when Seamus wasn't plopping him in front of well-endowed witches in skimpy outfits and telling him not to touch. He, unlike Seamus, was married, to Romilda Vane who had, despite Seamus' admonitions, taken a liking to the "tall, dark and handsome" photographer. They had married in 2008, and had not yet had any kids.

Sir Zacharias Smith MSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class and Sir Ernie MacMillian CSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class were both Aurors, along with Ron Weasley. More often than not, they accompanied him on his assignments, particularly when they consisted of guarding the Wizengamot. Before and after meetings became small informal reunions of a particular group of Hogwarts alumni, especially considering that Sir Terry Boot MSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class and Sir Anthony Goldstein CSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class both worked in the Ministry of Magic (Terry in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Tony in the Department of Administration and Finance) and had risen to positions that meant sometimes they appeared before the Wizengamot to discuss reports and proposals, and that the three Slytherin Knights had all taken up positions within the Wizengamot (Urquhart because his father had been killed by Aurors during the final battle, Harper and Vaisey because Harry had seen to it that they were given titles upon their majority to add to his support bloc in the body).

Sir Kevin Entwhistle MSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class had gone to work for Gringotts Bank following graduation from Hogwarts. He became a Warder, maintaining the security protections on the Gringotts vaults and devising and implementing new protection schemes.

Sir Fred and Sir George Weasley, both CSK, Order of Merlin, Second Class, returned to running their shop after the end of the conflict with Voldemort. Their business was quite successful and paid heavy dividends to both the twins and to Harry, who preferred to take his reward in products from the shop, which he used to play pranks on and give as presents to his kids. Not long after taking the reins of Hogwarts as Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall had been dismayed to find the twins' plans to expand their business to Hogsmeade had come to fruition. Many a swamp sprouted in random corridors throughout Hogwarts for many years to come.

* * *

Draco Black had spent the battle of Hogwarts pacing in his room at Potter Manor, and had given serious thought several times to stealing a sword out of the Manor's armoury and making his way to Hogwarts to join in, despite Potter's promise to his mother. He couldn't deny, though, his relief at the news the next day that Potter had come out victorious.

He'd re-dedicated himself to his studies for the fifteen months and ended up with such an exceptional Potions NEWT score that Professor Slughorn offered to mentor him for a Mastery in the subject, with eyes to replacing him as Potions Master. They achieved this in 2005.

Draco married Astoria Greengrass in 2003, and they'd so far had four children: Scorpius Hyperion Black, born 2004; Antares Sirius, born 2006; Cassiopeia Callidora, born 2008; and Orion Regulus, born 2010. Harry had congratulated Draco heartily on each birth, and had written Scorpius into his will as the next Lord Black right in front of him.

* * *

After the graduation of Harry from Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore decided it was time to scale back his activities (he was over a hundred years old, after all, and nearer to 120 than he was to 110) and retired as Headmaster, passing power to Minerva McGonagall and returning to his old home in Godric's Hollow. He continued to train Harry in Transfiguration, allowing the young lord some leeway, given his other commitments. Regardless, Harry did manage to achieve a Mastery in the subject under Albus' tutelage shortly after his marriage to Hermione.

Albus died in 2005, of a heart attack. His funeral was one of the most memorable occasions in Britain, attended by nearly a thousand witches and wizards. A memorial to him was erected on the grounds of Hogwarts in memory of his nearly 80 years of service to the school.

* * *

Amos Diggory's first term as Minister for Magic had gone quite swimmingly considering the situation he found himself dropped into at the start. With Voldemort gone within nine months of him taking office, he'd found himself with loads of political capital to bring in several reforms to the Wizarding World, most of which were well-received (despite the objections of the Albriton faction in the Wizengamot). He had won a second term in 2001, and a nearly unprecedented third term in 2006. After fifteen years in office, though, he was ready to give up power.

The rumours swirled over who would be chosen as his successor, but Amos knew that if Harry got his way, and he almost certainly would, the next Minister would be someone close to him. He idly wondered if it wouldn't be such a bad idea if that Muggleborn, Finch-Fletchey, succeeded him. The young man was quite well versed in the politics of both the wizarding and muggle worlds, and he was already known to the Prime Minister as a wizard.

If not Finch-Fletchey, it could be one of the Weasleys. They were a respectable, open-minded family, for Purebloods, and they more than deserved the respect the family would get should one of them be elected Minister.

* * *

After the death of Voldemort, and Snape's continued employment as DADA Professor, it was determined that the curse he had placed on the position had been broken by his death. In the next fourteen years, only five staff changes had taken place at Hogwarts.

Professor Dumbledore had retired, and been succeeded by Professor McGonagall as Headmistress in 1998.

Professor McGonagall became Headmistress in 1998, and was replaced as Transfiguration Master and Head of Gryffindor by Alistair McGowan, a Scotsman who graduated Hogwarts in 1968.

Professor Slughorn retired again after the death of Professor Dumbledore, and was replaced as Potions Master by Draco Black in 2005.

Professor Binns was exorcised the same year, and replaced by Professor Remus Lupin after the passage of a more accommodating Werewolf Act in 2000 by the Wizengamot. His affliction was accounted for by simply cancelling History classes around the full moon. The students didn't seem to mind.

Finally, Professor Trelawney had died of cirrhosis in 2006. Nobody mourned overmuch, and Firenze was simply given the Divination job full-time once again.

Since the death of Voldemort in April, 1997, Harry's scar had not bothered him one bit. It had even started to fade. If you looked hard enough, you could still see it, but barely.

Most everything was well, but Harry was sure he'd take care of what was not eventually. Hermione would never let him fail to do so.

* * *

_Fin_

* * *

_A/N: Well, that's it! I'm currently working on two different HP stories (strangely enough, they're both twin!fics). I might post one of them next, I might post something completely different! I'm kind of in the mood for something dark (which should tell you a lot about what I've been reading lately). Some of the early details are on my profile, if you care to check that out._

_Until next time, Mischief Managed!_

_-Phoenix II  
_


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